The Valley of Fear
by Sandylee007
Summary: SEQUEL to 'The Sign of the Four'. Two years after Dr. Spencer Reid's death his team, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson are all after what's left of Sebastian Moran's web. Sherlock's disappearance brings them together once more. Love, devotion and loyalties are tested when the dead come back to life and everything seems to shatter. Will they win the final game?
1. The Games Begin

A/N: It took longer than I'd expected but here it is – the sequel for 'The Sign of the Four'! (grins) Hooray?

WARNINGS: CROSSOVER, violence, death, gore, language, adult themes… You know, the usual lot. (smirks)

DISCLAIMER: Please…! If I DID own anything of 'CM' or 'Sherlock' you'd see me floating on the sky with joy like a helium ball.

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) This is totally the scariest part for me, so let's cut the chase before I change my mind. (chuckles) I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

* * *

**_The Valley of Fear_**

* * *

The Games Begin

* * *

It was strange to the BAU-team how fast and slow two years had passed them by. Two endless years full of tears and joy. Full of life and death.

Approaching a all too familiar grave Jennifer Jareau found her chest almost unbearably tight from memories. After a lot of practice there was barely any limp in her steps. Even now, when the days of past wanted to swallow her up, she managed to feel a hint of pride for that.

Pausing before the grave JJ swallowed thickly upon discovering that she wasn't the only one who'd visited. Penelope Garcia had left behind a rather large bouquet of colorful flowers. David Rossi and Aaron Hotchner had both lit up a candle. Derek Morgan had left no traces of his visit but she could practically still feel his presence.

Struggling furiously against the stinging in her eyes she knelt, placing the white lilies she'd just bought to the ground along with a card Henry had made.

'_Hi, uncle Spencer. I miss you._'

JJ cleared her throat, wondering where to begin. "Hi, Spence. It's… It's been two years, to date. But… Somehow I have a feeling that you already knew." She gulped once more and wiped her eyes although it didn't ease the formation of moisture at all. "This… This is my second case since my maternity leave, and I was absolutely terrified to leave Sandra and Henry. And Will, too. I'm… not sure if the therapy is enough for us anymore." She sighed, focusing her eyes on the things left down below. "Rossi's dating someone over twenty years younger. Did he tell you that? Well, at least he isn't lonely anymore. Hotch is getting married to Beth soon. Have you noticed how much better his speech has gotten? Words only fail him when he's tired." Her fingers brushed the flowers Penelope left behind, careful not to damage them. "Garcia's… had it rough. Especially since losing Lily. She broke up with Kevin again and dyed her hair purple. Although I'm pretty sure that you know more about all that than I do. She talks to you, I can tell. And Morgan… He's so angry, Spence. Especially after what happened to Desiree. He's been trying to drive us away but we're not letting him. We're not going to lose another member of this family. We already lost you and let Prentiss go."

JJ sank so deep into her thoughts that she jumped upon hearing her cell phone ring. She frowned at the sight of Aaron Hotchner's number. "What is it?" She sounded harsher than she intended. Hadn't they agreed on not taking any cases today?

"_Something's come up._" No greetings, no pleasantries. "_How fast do you think you can get to the bureau?_"

JJ knew immediately what this meant. Cold filled her body, spreading through her veins. What little there was left of Sebastian Moran's web had come out again, after two years of complete silence. "I'll be there in a few minutes." She hung up without anything further, focusing on the name engraved to the stone once more.

_Spencer Andrew Reid_

Her eyes watered while she balled her fists, her jaw tightening painfully for a moment. "I miss you, too. And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that those who took you away will pay. I promise." She brushed the stone with a tender hand before turning around sharply and beginning to walk away, her legs heavy and a ton's weight sitting on her shoulders.

Upon leaving JJ had no idea of the familiar, pain filled eyes observing her. Guarding her. Wind caressed the long, black jacket as the person left as well, headed towards the opposite direction. Spencer Reid disappeared like the ghost that he was supposed to be, determined to finish his own task.

* * *

Since Spencer's death Derek Morgan had spent all the time he could on trying to track down those responsible. Most of the time he slammed right at a dead end. Like someone had been blocking his path, trying to keep him from reaching his goal. Today that someone had failed.

Because he was staring at pictures a very old friend from the police sent him, taken from a rather fresh crime scene. A whole family butchered. A father, a mother and their two children. The mother had been one of Moriarty's snipers until she fell in love and ended up pregnant. She'd been allowed to live because she swore eternal silence. A few days ealier she broke that promise when she was interrogated on the murder of a reporter who'd been investigating Moran's web.

The day before she'd been forced to watch her whole family being killed until, after she'd most likely begged for the relief for hours, she'd been murdered as well.

"This is the first proper clue of Moran's legacy we've managed to get our hands on", Aaron stated, his eyes even harder and darker than usual. There wasn't a trace of stutter, of weakness. The man's gaze swept over the group gathered into the briefing room. "If you want to sit this one out it's only understandable. This is completely unofficial. We're breaking several protocols. If Strauss ever finds out it may have severe repercussions on our careers. So if you want to go home…"

Derek snorted. "Are you kidding me? They… took Reid away. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to stop them."

Aaron nodded, looking at the rest of them. "Do you all agree?"

David Rossi, JJ and Penelope Garcia all nodded determinedly. This was for their Spencer Reid. For their resident genius. Of course they'd do whatever they could to ensure that justice would be served.

Aaron nodded, appearing genuinely touched. "Alright. Then let's go. We've been promised an hour so we need to use it well."

* * *

What the group in America couldn't possibly know was that Interpol was also still after what was left of Sebastian Moran's legacy. And there was one agent who'd offered herself to lead the department the job was assigned to. Offered, despite the fact that she now had late Elle Greenaway's son Robbie to raise and look after.

Emily Prentiss had long since sworn that she'd do whatever was under her power to make sure that those who killed Spencer, Elle and so many other people would pay. But still her heart hammered painfully fast while she sped through a thick and hopelessly dark Irish forest, cold sweat lingering on her forehead. The role of a mother didn't suit her job at all.

A small crack made her freeze, adrenaline spiking high in her burning veins. Each and every muscle in her body stiffened with anticipation. Her ears sharpened, determined to catch even the smallest of all sounds. And then she saw.

There was a young man, lay on the forest floor. Pale, eyes closed, greasy dark brown hair plastered againts his skin. He couldn't be older than twenty-one. Far too young to lay dead in a pool of his own blood. The man, however, wasn't alone.

Captain Dr. John Watson straightened, his unreadable eyes never weavering from the deceased. Those were eyes that'd seen far too much death and heartbreak. The eyes of a man who was still in a war.

Emily swallowed, feeling colder than she should've. Despite how many people she'd seen die it never got any easier. "Is he…?"

John nodded stiffly. "He knew that we were coming. He was preparing an ambush for us." There was one gun on the forest floor and another in the former army doctor's eerily steady hand. The evidence spoke loudly which one had been faster.

Emily sighed. This kid had been the head of Moriarty's web in Dublin. This should've been a victory yet didn't feel like one. They both hated when they were this young. "I'll call and announce it."

Two hours later, after all explanations had been delivered and the scene had been cleared, the pair sat in a black car on their way towards the airport.

There Emily finally took the risk of glancing towards her companion. John's face held the expression of a stone hard military man. Only a careful eye was able to spot the true emotions lingering in those eyes.

When John called her a month or so after she began her own work it took Emily a long while to understand why the man wanted to be involved. She took him in gladly nonetheless and it wasn't very hard to convince those in charge that a former soldier who had extensive knowledge on James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran was a valuable consultant. When he started participating in fieldwork they frowned yet approved. Still Emily couldn't understand why this man who had to have his hands full with Sherlock would choose a path like this. Then she asked. She'd never forget the look in his eyes when he answered.

/ _"They stole my family. I lost him to them once, too, but somehow managed to get him back. I'm not going to lose him again."_ /

"Do you think that he knows what you're up to?" she inquired, wanting to cut the heavy silence. Seeing John's confusion she clarified. "Sherlock. Do you think he knows that you're here, working with me?"

John focused on the landscape spreading outside the car. The man's jawline tightened. "A while ago I would've said yes. But now… I'm not sure." There was a brief pause. "He doesn't take as many cases anymore yet he keeps… disappearing. And there are no body parts laying around. He's found something that occupies him."

Emily frowned. Somehow that didn't sound promising. "Do you think it's something dangerous?"

John took a deep breath, his eyes darkening still. "I don't know." A new pause. "Yes."

* * *

The rather small, startlingly normal looking house was completely dark as the BAU team entered, processing every bit of evidence and information they managed to get. A unfinished dinner. Forgotten toys on the floor. A book that'd fallen to the living room floor, blood splatters staining it.

Evidence of several unfinished lives.

David Rossi swallowed thickly. This was never his favorite part. "So…", he breathed out. "Let's get to work."

The others agreed numbly, soundlessly. What else were they supposed to do? Unofficial or not this was their job, this time even more than that.

For some reason it was the study that called out to David. He walked there with slow, nearly reluctant steps, looking around with the emotionless eyes of a professional. Taking in whatever little information he could find.

Whichever of Moran's still standing lackeys had finished the job had been careful not to leave any traces. The desk was empty. The computer was practically destroyed. David toyed with wondering if Penelope would be able to do anything about it.

Just then he frowned as he noticed something on the floor. Droplets of blood, leading towards the room's window. There'd been signs of struggle all over the parents' bodies. Could it be that the killer's blood had been drawn?

So focused on following the trail David was that he didn't notice the ominous shadow lingering far too close. Didn't sense the threat. Fortunately someone else did.

All of a sudden there was a voice coming from his earpiece. A familiar voice. A _impossible _voice. "_Duck right now!_"

That voice alone was almost enough to send David to his knees. His eyes widened while he indeed ducked, his heart beating a million miles per hour. "What…?!"

He saw a flash of movement. A brief glimpse of light shining on metal. A blink later the sound of a bullet piercing glass came, followed by a thud as a body hit the floor. David's heart hammered madly when he watched the pool of blood beginning to form.

He hadn't noticed…

Hadn't even sensed…

If it wasn't for the person who warned him…

"_Dave!_" Aaron Hotchner's voice was tight and loaded. "_What's going on? We heard a thud. Are you alright?_"

David shook his head, dazed. Adrenaline was bringing up a storm in his veins. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright." He spun around, only then remembering the shooter. "But who…?!" All words froze into his throat.

There, on the rooftop of a nearby block of flats, stood what looked like an angel of death and revenge. A long, black jacket billowed in the wind, along with slightly overgrown black hair. The gun was still in the shooter's eerily steady hold, in a fist that was clenched so tightly that it must've hurt. It was hard to tell from such a distance but there seemed to be scars marring the man's unhealthily pale skin. So familiar, yet unrecognizeable.

An angel indeed. Because he couldn't really be seeing the person he thought was before him. That man had been dead and buried for two years.

David's heart skipped a beat. Perhaps two. All breath was struck from his lungs as he stumbled a single step forward, color draining from his face. "Reid…?"

That voice was in his earpiece again. The hand that'd made its way to the shooter's matching one seemed to be trembling. "_I'm so sorry._" With that the ghost made his way to the furthest possible edge David could see, the jacket flapping like a war flag, and disappeared.

Like nothing but a trick of his imagination.

* * *

Having completed the fire escape safely and once he'd managed to dash a safe distance away Spencer leaned heavily against a wall, his heart thumping so madly that he feared it might burst. His eyes stung hellishly and blurred for a moment. Longing clawed his whole body.

So close… He'd been so close…

Swallowing thickly he moved his trembling hand to his earpiece. "Bishop's been taken care of", he announced in a voice he couldn't recognize. Sounds of sirens were approaching. He stiffened, adrenaline and something beyond still running through. "I… may have been compromised. Possible visual contact. Over."

There was a long, heavy silence. One that lasted for several seconds. "_Retreat. You will receive further instructions shortly. Over._"

Then, as quickly as possible, the connection was broken. Spencer stood absolutely still for several seconds, waiting for the sirens to fade away. As he left his steps were stiff, the faintest trace of a limp barely visible.

Walking away knowing that his family was only minutes away was definitely one of the hardest things he'd ever done but he didn't really have any choice, not yet. And so he vahished all over again. Wishing from the bottom of his heart that when the time of return would come he'd be forgiven.

* * *

In another country a cell phone bleeped. A pair of stormy eyes glanced around cautiously before Sherlock Holmes opened the message. His eyes flashed at the words.

'_Bishop fell._

_Another game starts tonight._

_M.H._'

Good. Very good. They were one step closer to having this finished, now.

All of a sudden Sherlock sensed that he was being watched.

The furious, feverish beat of the night club seemed to get a hold of Sherlock as well when he turned his head to meet a pair of midnight black eyes. There, on the opposite side of the massive room, stood a woman of his age with long, fire red hair and a tiny black dress that left quite little to be imagined. The ice cold smirk on her lips was, however, what spoke the loudest. She toyed with her cell phone and in a few seconds he received a new text message.

'_You've been following me around for a while, now. I must admit that I'm quite flattered by the attention. Especially since rumor has it that you call me a Queen. So why don't you come and get me?_'

'Don't keep a lady waiting' she mouthed, her lips painted with blood red. She gave him a one more glance that measured him up from head to toe. Then turned around and walked away, a far from subtle sway on her hips. Sherlock stared at her for a few more moments before making up his mind and following, his steps slow and full of confidence. His hand never straying far from the gun sitting on his hip.

He walked out and vanished as well.

* * *

TBC, OR NOT?

* * *

A/N: And thus begins our sequel.

Dang, now that's a lot of determined people after Moran's web! Now if only they'd work together… 'Wonder where all of this is going to lead…?

So, folks, the choice is in your hands now! What's the verdict? Should this continue – or be demolished right at the beginning? PLEASE, do let me know! Starting out a new story is always insanely unnerving so hearing from ya would feel amazing. (offers some muffins in hopes of them coaxing you)

In any case, thank you so much for reading!

Until next time, whichever project that may be with!

Take care!

* * *

**mudkipz**: Gosh, that's gotta be one of the most amazing compliments I've ever received! (beams, and hugs) You just made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

Who knows, maybe you'll find your way to this sequel and enjoy this one, too…?

Massive thank yous for the amazing review!

* * *

**Tabby**: Oh dear…! (gasps) You just succeeded in making me beam with joy, ya know? So thank you! (glomps) It means a lot that you think so highly of my talents.

'Hope you'll find this sequeal and perhaps enjoy this one as well.

Monumental thank yous for the heartwarming review!


	2. The Uniting Front

A/N: I'm baaaaack! I'm not sure if I would've been able to pull off a weekend update so I decided that perhaps being a bit early wouldn't hurt. (smirks and winks)

THANK YOU, so very much, for all those fantastic reviews! I'm totally flattered by the fact that this sequel managed to get so much love. (beams and hugs) Thank you – you're fantastic!  
Awkay… (gulps) I suppose that it's time to get going, huh? I really hope that you'll enjoy this one!

* * *

The Uniting Front

* * *

_Two Months Later_

* * *

David liked to think that he was one of those agents who wouldn't let their personal feelings come in the way of their work. He couldn't quite stick to that policy when he sat before Erin Strauss on that rainy morning, his fingers drumming restlessly. Those eyes scanning through his report, stealing occasional glimpses towards him, were uncomfortably similar to the eyes that watched him when they…

"This little… stunt of your team's has finally been processed properly", she announced after what felt like a lifetime of tense silence. She put down the report with a deliberately slow, carefully controlled motion. "You went to a crime scene unauthorized. The result was a suspect shot to death under suspicious circumstances and most likely tampered evidence. While I think that a month long suspension is enough of a punishment there's something about your report that concerns me."

David took a deep breath. His fingers stilled completely, stiff and on alert. "I know what I saw", he announced, hoping that he sounded more convincing to her ears than his own. "I had a clear enough visual to be able to tell."

Erin sighed, running a weary hand through her hair. "Look, Dave… I understand that this has been… difficult. I know how much you wish that it was true." There was genuine sadness in her eyes. "But Dr. Reid is dead."

David's eyebrow bounced up. His fingers spasmed, just a little bit. "You know… I'm not so sure about that anymore."

Erin frowned. "Dave…"

"I've seen the dead come back to life before", he interrupted her, then got up stiffly. "Now, if you excuse me… I have a lot of paperwork to finish before the month long exile begins."

He was almost out of the room when Erin spoke once more. "Agent Rossi?" There was something he couldn't quite read in her eyes. "I don't know what it is that you're up to. But be careful."

For a couple of seconds he stared, his mouth already opening until he changed his mind and closed it. Instead he nodded and left the room. He didn't slam the door like he'd originally planned.

* * *

John Watson wasn't one to worry too easily. Such a trait would've surely rendered him overly exhausted quickly in the field. But this time he reasoned that he had a good reason to worry.

Sherlock had been missing for two months. Of course the detective had pulled off several disappearance stunts before and after the infamous fall but never, ever like this. No answers to the countless of phone calls and text messages. No explanations. Nothing. Mycroft wasn't much help. He hadn't caught even a glimpse of the British government during the past five weeks.

This silence was making him wonder if he'd imagined Sherlock's return from the dead, after all, and he _hated_ it.

In the middle of the waiting, dreading and frustration John found it scarily easy to understand why Sherlock found a time without a case so very hateful. There were no Moran's henchmen to hunt down for the time being and John had no idea what to do with all that spare time left. The shifts he occasionally worked at a clinic were nowhere near enough.

That particular day found him from a shooting range. His blue eyes were pure stone as they focused on his target. Everything was so very simple here.

Trigger. Aim. Press.

He knew this, better than well.

And this time he didn't have the burden of a living target.

One. Two. Three.

One for his wife.

One for his little girl.

One for Sherlock, that of a promise.

_I'm going to find you, you git_, he mentally swore at the hole filled picture._ Even if it's the last thing I do. This is finally going to end._

The sensation of vibration made John shiver. It took a long time before he'd gathered himself enough to remember that he'd taken his cell phone along. Taking a long, good look around just to be sure he slid a hand to his pocket, fishing out his phone. For some reason it took several seconds before he managed to make himself open the message. In a flash he understood why. The words sucked absolutely all warmth from his body.

'_Don't bother, doctor. There's nothing left for you to look for anymore._'

* * *

Derek waited for half an hour after the others had left, just to be sure, before he made his way to Penelope's office. She jumped and emitted a yelp of startle but managed to calm down a little bit once recognizing him. "I love you to bits, but you cannot sneak up on me like that! I almost had a heart attack!"

Derek had to smile a little at that. He kissed her forehead as soon as he was close enough. "I'm sorry, baby girl." He then glanced towards the computer screen. "So… What did you find on that son of a bitch?"

Ever since that killer was shot by a mystery person Derek had been craving to find out just who the man was. Moran's assassin, no doubt. If they'd find out more about this lousy excuse of a human being they might find their way to more of those people who killed Spencer.

Derek didn't care if any of this was legal anymore. He just wanted justice. He _needed_ to make sure that those who killed Spencer would pay. Otherwise he wouldn't know what the hell he should believe in anymore.

Penelope swallowed, fidgeting slightly. "Well… His name was Matthew Cook. Fifty-six on the day of his death. He and Moran crossed paths in Ireland, even joined IRA together. Who knows how long he worked for Moriarty."

Derek nodded sharply, finding himself growing impatient and restless. Like a bloodhound that'd caught a scent. "Any contacts?"

"Several. I'll…" She frowned all of a sudden while going through the list. "Okay, this is creepy. Most of them have died over the past two years."

Derek frowned. A tingle rose to his skin. "What?"

Penelope's face grew a little bit paler than before. "One of them had a heart attack, but… The rest, they've… Well, you know."

Oh yes, Derek did. And didn't. His jawline tightened.

So all of those people – killers, monsters – had been murdered. All of a sudden. But, who the hell…?

He shuddered and Penelope yelped again when his cell phone began to ring in the middle of that thought. His eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar number. He hesitated before finally picking up. "Derek Morgan."

"_Uh… Hi. __This is coroner Jayne Gibson._" The woman sounded… scared, almost. Her voice was so quiet that he barely heard it. "_You asked me to call about SSA Dr. Spencer Reid's autopsy._"

Derek nodded sternly although he knew full well that she wouldn't be able to see. His free hand gripped Penelope's chair so hard that it hurt. "Yes. I… read your report recently." It was easily one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He gritted his teeth for a moment to compose himself. "I understood that there were inconsistencies."

It was silent for so long that he thought Jayne had hung up on him. Then he realized that she was moving. She didn't continue until a door had been closed. "_Yes, there were. For one there were a couple of old, reported injuries that I couldn't spot on the body brought before me. What bothered me the most, however, was the blood type._"

Derek frowned. Something bizarre squirmed in the pit of his stomach. "What do you mean?"

"_The victim's blood type was B negative._" She swallowed, loud and hard. He could almost hear how badly she was shaking. What in the world was she so afraid of? "_Dr. Reid's was reportedly AB positive._"

Derek felt like someone had just pulled the carpet from underneath his feet. He trembled, his eyes widening and absolutely all warmth leaving his body. His mouth opened twice before sound came. "Did you… report all of this?"

"_Of course. My supervisor told me immediately that there was nothing wrong with the results, that I'd simply made a mistake. I was transferred to other tasks a month later._"

Derek blinked twice, vaguely realizing that breathing was getting a great deal harder than it should've been. Nothing, absolutely nothing, made sense to him anymore. He was barely able to maintain his hold on his cell phone.

He was already about to hang up when he heard Jayne's voice call out. "_Agent Morgan!_" There was a brief moment of silence. "_If… If it wasn't Dr. Reid… Then whose body did I examine? And how did it end up before me?_"

Derek thought about this for a long moment. Then gave the only honest answer. "I don't know." He was beginning to feel dangerously dizzy. "Thank you, for your time." This time he did hang up, feeling so much all at once that his whole body became numb.

"Derek?" It took several attempts before Penelope managed to get his attention. Worry was loud and clear in her eyes. "Derek, what was that about? You're scaring me."

Derek wondered if it would've been less cruel to lie. If there was any point in raising most likely false hopes. But his lips worked before he had the slightest chance of stopping himself. "Reid… I think that he may be still alive."

* * *

What the team didn't know, couldn't even expect, was that they were being observed. In a blue car that wouldn't have aroused anyone's suspicions sat a man in his late thirties with shortcut dark hair, a very expensive cell phone in his hand. The water colored eyes behind equally pricey sunglasses were sharp as he snatched a picture after another.

When David came home and poured absolutely all of his frustration on a series of heated kisses to his sinfully young girlfriend a picture was taken.

When Penelope visited the grave of Lily Garcia, who'd only lived for less than a day, the cell phone's camera was sure to capture her tears of sorrow and heartbreak.

When JJ came home with her daughter in her arms and her son running excitedly ahead of her a picture was taken as a proof of how she hesitated behind the door of what was supposed to be her home.

When Aaron watched his son playing soccer the camera captured the – in the photographer's opinion – nauseatingly domestic moment.

When Derek left the bureau hours and hours after the others, without a doubt having used those lonely hours on information searches that weren't strictly speaking legal, a picture was immediately taken.

All of those snapshots joined the one he'd taken earlier of Emily and John, forming a collection. One that he sent immediately. Or well, right after typing a quick message.

'_I'm sure that these are worthy of the attention of the Queen herself._'

The response was instant.

'_Yes, they indeed are._'

* * *

Night had already fallen and Aaron was fast on his way to sleep with Beth snuggled comfortably close to him. Just before oblivion reached him, though, his cell phone began to ring. It was John Watson.

As soon as Aaron found out that the doctor was working alongside Emily to wipe out the last of Moran's web he contacted the man. There was no way he could've gone after the web himself without taking risks that he couldn't afford so this was the closest he could get. The least he could do for Spencer. And, in a way, for Emily and Elle Greenaway as well.

Carefully making sure that his fianceé wasn't disturbed he picked up and made his way out of the room before speaking. There was a hint of adrenaline in his bloodstream. "Has there been progress?"

John's breath didn't sound calm or steady. "_We've… managed to cut off several branches. But… I'm afraid that I'm going to need your help._"

Aaron's eyes lit up with fire. There wasn't a beat of hesitation. "What do you need?"

John swallowed loudly. Like a man close to suffocation. "_Sherlock… He's been missing for the past two months and I have every reason to believe that he's ended up involved with Moran's legacy. The last traces I've been able to find hint towards America. And… I need to find him. Fast._"

Aaron's fist balled. He knew precisely how much it hurt to lose a dear one like that and John had already been through that once. Besides, this might just be the only possible opportunity he had to get to Moran's men. "When will you land?"

The sigh was that of relief. "_At six in the morning. Sharp._"

"Good. I'll have my team ready then." As an afterthought he added. "And John? Be careful."

"_You too._" The former soldier's voice was grave, full of steel. "_Somehow I have a feeling that none of us is safe right now._"

The phone call was finished after brief byes. Aaron breathed slowly and hard under the aftermath, his eyes widened a fraction and his heart hammering. His whole body preparing for whatever was to come.

The previous round of this war cost him a member of his team, a member of his family. He was determined to make sure that there'd be no such losses this time. Whatever it'd take.

* * *

Less than an hour's drive away a pair of paramedics worked furiously on a man who'd just been pulled out of the freezing depths of a nearby river. There was no ID. Absolutely nothing that would've given a hint of his identity. Just a dangerously pale man with shortcut, reddish blonde hair. Wearing a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt of the same color. The emergency room's lights were painfully bright when they wheeled the unfortunate soul in.

"What do you have?" a sharp voice demanded.

One of the medics, a man in his late fifties who'd been doing this far too often, sighed upon assessing his patient's condition with a pair of solemn blue eyes. He ran a hand through his army style cut brown hair. "Male, caucasian. Obvious signs of a struggle. A lot of bruising on upper body, possible broken ribs. Possible broken arm. Several wounds, it looks like he's been stabbed. He's most likely lost quite a bit of blood." He glanced towards the blood oozing from the man's hairline. "A cut on head, unable to tell the extend of trauma right away."

"Vitals?"

"Blood pressure's low, pulse fast and thready. I'd be much happier with a higher saturation number. He's hypothermic – we just fished him out of a goddamned river."

Rachel Barton had been a trauma doctor for almost ten years. Still the cases she faced on daily basis gave her chills. Her green eyes were full of sympathy upon examining the patient's pale, frowning face. For some reason she found herself unable to look away from him while she barked orders, sending the room into motion. Sending the whole team into a fight over this unlucky man's life that was hanging by a thread.

"Don't worry", she told the John Doe in the soft voice she always used with patients. "We're going to take the best possible care of you, alright? You're safe now."

It was impossible, especially with the medication that'd just been administrated. But she could've sworn that she saw the man twitch, as though out of protest. A shiver traveled through her.

How did this man end up into the river? What happened to him? And why did she feel like she'd seen him somewhere?

* * *

In a distant part of the country a lone figure limped to the end of a dark, abandoned alleyway, sharp eyes constantly glancing around in case of a attack. Droplets of blood fell to the pavement, appearing black as they hit the rain soaked ground. Only the moon shone light on the battered, bruised and bleeding figure.

Spencer barely noticed the pain coursing through absolutely all of him. His eyes were burning with tears he was determined to hold back for now. This wasn't the time to break down. Still his hand trembled pitiably when he lifted it to his earpiece. "The Pope has been taken care of", he announced in a hoarse, quiet voice. It was a small miracle that he managed to speak without a stutter. "But… They're suspicious. A threat has been posed on Six Swords. Over."

"_Understood. Stay undercover. Operation 007 is still in progress. Over._"

Spencer's eyes flashed hazardously, in a way they never would've before the beginning of this nightmare. A beast roared inside of him while one, just one, tear rolled and mixed to rain water. "The time in undercover is over, Mycroft", he growled. Despair making him feel like he'd been choking. Or perhaps drowning on dry land. "They… They've got Danny. I'm going to find him before…" He swallowed thickly, nausea swelling inside. It didn't help any. "I'm not going to lose any more members of my family. It's time to stop playing dead. Over." With that he snatched off the earpiece, ignoring Mycroft Holmes' snarls of protest, and tossed it to the ground.

In a flash Spencer disappeared into the shadows, a ghost fast on his way back to the land of the living.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Okay, so… Who is this Danny who's been taken? Where's Sherlock? And who was just brought into the ER? And holy damn, Reid's going back home! (beams)

Sooo… What are your thoughts? Was that any good at all? PLEASE, leave a note to the lovely box below to let me know!

I've really gotta dash, now. (pouts) Until next time, my lovelies, with whichever story that may be!

Take care!


	3. The Morning of the Living Dead

A/N: I'm baaaaack! It's time to see what comes next in this sequel of ours. (grins)

BUT, before that… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your reviews and support! They really do mean the world to me, ya know? So thank you! (HUGS)

Awkay… (gulps) I suppose that there's no stalling anymore, eh? So let's go!

* * *

The Morning of the Living Dead

* * *

The house had already grown dark yet JJ felt no need to switch on the lights while she stood in the room her children shared, watching them sleep. Henry was mumbling something in a voice she couldn't quite catch, one fist balled tightly. Sandra made small, unidentifiable sleeping noises, her eyelids fluttering furiously. JJ looked at them and felt a tremendous weight forming in the pit of her stomach.

She loved both of her children from the bottom of her heart. She loved Will, too. But still she couldn't help feeling trapped. She recognized the symptoms but that didn't make the realization any easier. Or less humiliating.

Somehow she'd just always imagined that post partum depression couldn't happen to her. Hadn't she wanted kids of her own since she was a child herself? Sure, she'd lost her leg and her best friend, came close to losing her life and almost everyone she cared about as well. But she was a federal agent. A mother and a wife. There was so much good in her life despite all the losses. She wasn't supposed to feel so bitter, resentful and sad all the time.

She needed help. Someone to talk to. Before she'd actually end up losing everything. At very least she should've talked to Will.

But not tonight. Because tonight her cell phone, luckily on a silent mode, vibrated in her pocket. Shivering a little she gave the item a look. Her eyes flashed in a unfamiliar manner at the message from Aaron she'd received.

'_Come to Garcia's apartment at six. It's about Moran._'

It took JJ another hour before she managed to make her way to the bed she shared with Will. Apparently waking up partially he sighed, rolling to face her. "Hey", he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. Eyes full of love. "What took you so long?" His accent was always thick when he was half asleep. A one more thing JJ adored.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for a half lie. "We've got a case tomorrow." It wasn't until then she realized that she'd never told him about the month long suspension. When was the last time they spoke properly? She licked her lips, blinking away the stinging of her eyes. "I'll have to be at the office by six."

Will sighed heavily, a tightness taking over his whole body. Was it fear or something else entirely? "Oh."

He was already falling asleep but JJ couldn't think of even closing her own eyes. At the last possible second she whispered, half expecting that he wouldn't hear. "I love you." _Please don't make me lose you. Please try to understand. Please._

Will smiled, his eyes already closed. One of his arms wrapped around her. "'ove you, too."

The night grew dark while he slept on and JJ remained wide awake, scared to death of the monsters hiding in the shadows and inside her mind.

* * *

There was a significant amount of tension in the air while the team gathered to Penelope's apartment that she now occupied alone. Not many words were spoken. The looks in their eyes said more than enough.

This was tearing open far too many wounds but they needed to do this, _end_ this, for themselves and especially Spencer.

"So…" Derek's voice was full of impatience. His eyes were pure lava. "Are we going to get started?"

"Not yet." Aaron's posture was even stiffer than usual. "We're… waiting for someone."

Before they had the time to ask there was a soft, almost hesitant knock on the apartment's door. They exchanged looks of confusion before Penelope went to let the arrival in. What they found brought smiles to their faces, no matter how much weight there was on their shoulders.

David's eyes softened. "Well, isn't this a sight for sore eyes."

Stood behind the door was none other than Dr. John Watson and he wasn't alone. Beside him, a guarded and nervous look on her face, stood Emily Prentiss. Her expression reminded them of the day when she came back from the dead.

Immediately Penelope sealed her friend into a crushing hug. "Oh, I should be so mad at you! What happened to the phone calls you promised?"

"I'm sorry." Somehow it sounded like Emily had been apologizing for so much more. "I've… been busy."

Finally breaking the embrace Penelope glanced towards the space behind the arrivals, as though looking for someone. "Where's Robbie? I was looking forward to meeting him."

Emily sighed. "I left him to Mrs. Hudson's care. I… couldn't bring him here, not when I didn't know what to expect."

They all understood. They knew entirely too well what the legacy Moran and Moriarty left behind was capable of. If there was any way they could've arranged their families far and fast enough away from it all they would've jumped to the chance without any hesitation.

They exchanged a great deal more of greetings. In the end Derek gave John a tight, polite smile. "It's good to see you again." And it was although this was bringing a lot of nightmares to life.

John nodded, understanding dawning in his blue eyes. "I… just wish that the circumstances were different." The man then visibly steeled himself, his military posture sliding to place as though on command. "So, what do you have?"

"I did a little digging last night", Penelope announced, surprising them all. There was a expression they'd never seen before on her face. "I investigated that address you mentioned as Sherlock's last known location a little bit. Just before you all came here I found out that the CIA visited that apartment after his disappearance. They're probably after Moran's web, too. I was just trying to get my hands on the pictures they took."

John's eyes flashed. A realization clearly sparking. "Would you let me give it a try?"

Curiosity taking over hurt professional pride Penelope nodded, leading John to her computer. She gave him a sharp look. "I like you. But I swear, if you do any damage…"

John didn't quite smile but the man's eyes did soften. "I promise to try my best not to." He then focused on the computer, typing furiously. Suddenly a series of pictures appeared to the screen.

Derek's eyebrow bounced up. "How did you do that? Isn't this classified?"

There was something dark in John's eyes. Shadows. "I still have a security clearance from my army days. And someone who owes me a huge favor."

They all decided not to pry any further. This was obviously a sore topic. Instead they all leaned forward eagerly, taking a look at the pictures.

The huge, dark room was a mess. There'd definitely been a struggle. Furniture had been toppled over, dishes smashed. They could've sworn that they saw some droplets of blood on the floor. Yet those things, however nauseting, didn't manage to capture their attention. What they really saw was what only the dark revealed, painted on the wall.

Bizarre patterns.

They all frowned, leaning closer still. "What… is that?" JJ murmured. "Some kind of a code?"

All of a sudden John gasped. The former soldier's eyes widened. "Yes. It's definitely a code. I've seen it before." Blatantly ignoring their questioning looks the man took his bag and began to rummage it swiftly, feverishly. He pulled out 'A-Z London'.

They watched in silence while he flipped through the pages, stealing occasional glimpses towards the pictures. There was a shimmer in his eyes. One of a bloodhound that was on the verge of spotting something. His hands were tense yet perfectly steady.

"We ran into this code during a case, years ago", John murmured a off-handed explanation while still working. His jaw tightened for a moment. "Sherlock explained it to me but I'm not sure if I figured it…" And then the man's eyes widened to a nearly comical size. Color drained from his face. "Oh…!"

"Well?" Aaron demanded tersely. Impatience bringing the carefully trained control over his voice close to cracking. "What does it say?"

John's voice held a small, bitter edge. A tremor, just one and only seconds long, lingered on the doctor's left hand. The man looked fully ready to throw up or pass out. The words were squeezed through what must've been a painfully tight throat. "'_I owe you_'."

* * *

At the hospital there was a sad look in nurse Meredith Moore's eyes while she marked down the newest John Doe's vitals, then began to change the dressings on the stab wound dangerously close to his abdominal area. Some people might've called this man lucky. An inch to another direction and he would've bled out before any help would've had the time to reach him. She wouldn't have used that word just yet.

As it turned out his head trauma was more severe than they'd originally hoped. It was impossible to tell the full affects until he'd wake up. _If_ he'd wake up at all.

Sighing heavily she inspected the wound. She was pleased to discover that it showed no signs of infection. If she'd clean and dress it properly it should heal rather nicely, what now leaving behind a impressive scar. Like this poor man hadn't had enough of those already.

All of a sudden there was what she could only call a twitch. It was most likely just a muscle spasm but nonetheless made Meredith's heart flutter one time too many. For about five seconds through which she held her breath the patient's pulse increased until it slowed to that of a heavily sleeping person's.

Meredith sighed. She finished with the wound, then took the patient's hand gently into one of hers. "Wake up soon, alright? Because judging by your injuries you've fought furiously for someone. I have a feeling that the someone is out there, waiting for you. You wouldn't want to disappoint them, would you?"

She was already about to leave the room until she noticed something that caught her attention. A series of numbers, tattooed to such part of the John Doe's arm that it was almost impossible to spot if one wasn't purposely looking. She frowned, inspecting a little bit closer.

_What…?_

Meredith's eyes widened while realization dawned. If she was correct they finally had the chance of finding out who this man was. And perhaps there'd finally be someone who could arrive to support him.

With how fast she fled the room her feet barely touched the ground.

Her colleague Shemar Brewster, who'd been typing on a computer, gave her a long look when she dashed to the nurses' station. "What's with you? You look like there's someone chasing you."

"There was a phone number, tattooed to the John Doe's arm." Her voice was tight with excitement while she already dialed numbers. "Let's see if someone picks up."

* * *

_I owe you._

John gritted his teeth, folding his arms in some sort of a feeble attempt to shield himself against a invisible threat. His eyes were sharp and narrowed, full of focus. Unpleasant memories spun madly inside his head.

_I owe you._

Moriarty. But wasn't that bastard supposed to be dead? What was Sherlock trying to tell him? What was the detective expecting him to do?

In his confusion and terror John did the desperate, the last thing he would've wanted to do.

He sent Mycroft a text, demanding information on every single one of Sherlock's hideouts, especially this last one. He kept it curt. Formal. He was sure that Sherlock would've been amused by his attempts of keeping himself composed.

Mycroft's response took only a couple of fleeting minutes.

'_Open the door. M.H._'

The whole team, which was only just attempting to absorb the potential return of a monster they'd been described upon their first meeting with Sherlock and John, jumped when there was a sharp, demanding knock. They shared looks before John made his decision and walked to the door, his hand never straying from his gun. The desire to use the firearm didn't lessen the slightest when he identified the arrival.

John's eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you doing here?" he growled. "I was under the impression that you hate legwork." He knew that he was being childish and unfair but couldn't help himself. What was it about the Holmes' always bringing the worst out of him?

If his words had any affect it didn't show. "I do." Mycroft's voice was smooth and diplomatic, his hold on the ever present umbrella steady. "But I decided to make an exception for my brother."

It took just about all John had not to simply explode at that. Was the man kidding with him? After selling Sherlock out to Moriarty… After leading his brother to this path, without bothering to as much as hint John… _Now_ Mycroft decided that it was time to think of his brother?

With his years as a soldier, however, John managed to maintain whatever little calm he had. He nodded tersely, reluctantly letting the British government in. If this was the only way to find Sherlock and bring an end to this nightmare…

By the time John felt calm enough to join the others the round of more or less confused introductions was over. There was an aura of doubt and hesitation hanging heavily upon them. Clearly the team of profilers had figured out that this man was someone John wasn't exactly friends with. Mycroft, on the other hand, didn't really trust anyone.

What a merry little group they made, John mused more bitterly than he'd meant to.

"So…" Aaron, the natural leader, leaned forward, a thoughtful expression on his face. "What, exactly, is going on? Who are we up against?"

Mycroft's eyes were full of military style concentration. Such that easily makes one wonder just how many deaths and wars the man had initiated. "As far as I know there are three of Moran's men left. Knight, King and Queen. My… team, along with Dr. Watson and agent Prentiss here, have managed to neutralize the rest."

"What kind of information do we have on them?" Derek's eyes were pure lava. If he'd been a soldier in the field John would've been terrified to work beside him. Too much anger, too much package. A dangerous combination for the man and everyone around him. "IDs? Pictures?"

"Negative." Mycroft's eyes were sharp, a flash of irritation visible. Rage over the failure. "I'm under the impression that Sherlock managed to contact Queen before his disappearance. He was never able to send a picture."

"Surely you have something." John's tone held a challenge, as did his whole posture. "Or have your men gone rusty?" He'd definitely spent too much time with Sherlock.

For a moment annoyance showed but Mycroft hid it remarkably well. "Knight was one of Moran's most used assassins. From the text message traffic I've been able to get a hold of there was a wide range of crypted communication between them. Countless of targets, some of them in high positions. I had… an agent after him, but it would seem that I've lost contact." The man went on without leaving room for the questions that rose. "Queen, on the other hand, was Moriarty's favorite right after Moran. Almost impossible to trace. I sent two agents after her."

"What happened to them?" It didn't look like Emily really wanted to know, though.

"One of them was found floating from Thames with fifty-six stab wounds and a cross carved to his forehead." Mycroft's teeth were gritted so tightly that the speech barely made it out. "The other was sent to me in tiny pieces. It took two months before I had a complete corpse to be buried."

The team shivered. John gulped loudly, cold traveling through his veins. If these people had actually taken Sherlock…

"What about King?" Aaron's voice sounded even more tense than before.

Mycroft took a deep breath. "He's… a ghost. So far my men haven't been able to find even a single proper trace. But I can assure you that he does exist. I received the first hint of him while I had Moriarty in custody. I asked him about King once, actually. Moriarty seemed to be afraid of him, or at least he appeared surprised."

Silence lingered for the longest time while they all attempted to absorb this information. Things didn't seem promising, at all. But they were determined. Desperate.

"How are we going to carry on with this?" Emily demanded. Her eyes full of fire. Her whole body tense from adrenaline.

"In a few hours I'll take you to Sherlock's last known location. Later tonight there's every reason to expect that Queen will arrive to Virginia. I'm planning on arranging a welcome parade for her." Mycroft's eyes were unreadable. "But before all that I'd suggest you go home. Get some rest. Talk to your families if you wish. Because I can promise you that this won't be over soon."

After Mycroft's ominous words the rest of the team began to head home. In the meantime the British government pulled John to the side, a wild look that'd never been seen before in his eyes. "Dr. Watson… I'm perfectly aware that you don't think very highly of me. However, my brother's life is in your hands…"

John gritted his teeth so hard that it hurt. "Mycroft… I've lost my child and my wife. I also lost Sherlock once. I'm not planning on losing him again, even if it kills me." And he meant it, every single word. With a sense of finality he spun around, beginning to walk away. "See you in six hours."

Half an hour later found John from a shooting range, a chilling look in his eyes and his hands perfectly even. From the emotional turmoil and gunshots he failed to hear the sound of his cell phone ringing.

* * *

Only a answering machine responded to Meredith's call. She sighed heavily, disappointment landing heavily to the pit of her stomach while she put down the phone. She wasn't about to announce something like this to a answering machine, especially when she had no idea who she was calling. She just wished that it wouldn't be too late by the time she'd finally reach this mystery person.

"Mer!" She had no idea when Shemar had left the room but all of a sudden he was calling out to her from the room's doorway, a excited look in his wide eyes. "John Doe's waking up!"

In an instant she was running, the disappointing missed phone call already forgotten.

* * *

Upon coming home Derek's whole body was full of adrenaline and shock. His thoughts were spinning around so furiously that he didn't notice something being wrong immediately. It did click exactly three seconds after he'd walked through the door and realized that he hadn't needed his key.

Derek swallowed thickly, feeling cold all over while his eyes scanned around. Nothing seemed to have been taken. In fact no traces of the intruder existed. Nothing but a sensation of foreign presence.

"Clooney?" he growled out. "Clooney, where are you boy?" No response from his pet.

And then he heard the noises from the living room. Scratching. A couple of small barks. And a shuffle. The cold he'd been experiencing before intensified tenfold.

So the intruder was not only still in the apartment but in the next room with his dog.

Slowly, slowly the shadows began to move. His hand on his gun and fully prepared to use it Derek made his way soundlessly towards where he could still hear Clooney's nails on the floor. Up close he could tell that the canine's noises weren't those of pain, anger or terror. In fact the dog sounded excited.

Just then Derek could make out the outline of a person sitting on the floor. Clooney, the absolutely worst guard dog he could've possibly found, was licking this intruder's face, tail wagging at a dizzying speed. The burglar stiffened at the sight of him standing there.

Derek's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You have intruded the home of a federal agent. There are no prescription medicine or large amounts of money in this apartment. I am armed but I have no intention of using my weapon if you give me no reason to." His voice was tight but perfectly controlled despite the furious hammering of his heart. "I want you to get up slowly, with your hands where I can see them. After that I'm expecting you to calmly walk out that door. Do you understand me?"

The silence that lingered for several seconds was deafening. Afterwards nothing had ever been quite as loud as the whisper that broke the quiet. The pained, exhausted voice was one he'd fully expected to never hear again. "Morgan…"

* * *

TBC?

* * *

A/N: The plot is thickening, you guys! And could it be… Is Reid really back home? (gulps) 'Wonder what'll come out of this royal mess.

Thoughts? Good, bad? PLEASE, do leave a note to let me know. Awww, c'mon, you know that I totally adore hearing from you. (gives puppy's eyes)

I'm in a mad dash right now. (groans) Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that you'll all join in then.

Take care!


	4. Shocks to the System

A/N: Phew…! I've been INSANELY busy so it's a bit of a surprise that I actually managed to update on time. Hooray?

First, though…! Thank you so much for your reviews and support! You can't even imagine how happy those make me. (beams and hugs) So thank you!

Awkay, because stalling is rude… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Shocks to the System

* * *

"Sir?"

His eyes opened very, very slowly. And became screwed closed almost as fast when blinding white assaulted them. He groaned loudly, only to discover that it did nothing to ease the crushing headache he was having.

"Sir, I know that you're in pain. But I need you to open your eyes for a moment so that I can assess your… condition properly. Can you do that for me?"

It was the last thing he wanted to do. He was very much happy with the dark if it meant less pain. But he was far too stubborn to just give up like that. And so he fought, with all his might, to meet the mystery person's request.

At first all his eyes caught were blurry shapes and colors. But slowly the world around him began to grow clearer. Staring back at him was the somewhat cautiously smiling face of a woman in a nurse's clothes. Meredith, according to her nametag.

"Hello, there. We've all been waiting for you to wake up." She took a small flashlight, shining it to his eyes. "Could you follow this with your eyes, please?"

He obeyed although irritation bubbled in his veins. What the hell was this woman doing, wasting time on this nonsense? He wanted answers, he needed…

"Alright, thank you." Finally the obnoxious light was gone. Meredith made some notes before focusing on him once more. "Now, do you remember how you ended up here?"

He shook his head, both fists balling. No, he had no clue. Which was only one of the most irritating things in his current situation.

"That's only understandable. Your body went through quite a bit of trauma. Don't worry, you'll be alright and I'll go into more detail once you've recovered a little." She made some more notes, then searched his eyes and frowned. "I'm… afraid that we haven't been able to identify you. Could you tell me your name?"

His name? Well, he would've if he'd had even the faintest idea. Which he didn't. He shifted once more, his discomfort growing tenfold.

Meredith frowned again. A line of concern appeared. "Alright. I'll share this with your doctor." She attempted to smile but didn't quite succeed. "Is it alright if I call you John Doe until your memory comes back?"

John. It wasn't his name, he could tell. But it sounded… right, comforting. And so he nodded, wishing that the woman would just leave so he'd get the chance to think. She was pushing his headache to brand new hights.

Meredith, at very least, seemed to sense his discomfort. "It looks like you're in quite a bit of pain. I'll ask if I can give you anything extra, okay?" She gave his shoulder a squeeze that made him want to flinch away. "Try to relax. You'll be just fine. All your body needs is time."

With how his brain buzzed the patient barely noticed that he was alone once more. Nor did he notice the nurse returning with some medication. His thoughts spun around and around, making him feel dizzy. Or perhaps it was the medication.

All he had was the name John and a series of numbers that kept echoing in his head. What did they mean? And why did he have a feeling that time was running out?

In the end the medication got the best of him. Unable to stop himself the patient's eyes fluttered before he slid into a deep slumber.

He dreamt of giggles. He dreamt of falling. He dreamt of blood.

And even asleep he wished that it was a dream he'd be able to wake up from.

* * *

Derek was almost sure that he sent Aaron a text at some point. A text because there was absolutely no way he could've produced spoken words. Apparently he also managed to make his way to the couch. But that was about all he could comprehend about his current situation.

He'd had his suspicions since discovering that the body those hikers found from the river wasn't Spencer's. And of course he'd been hoping, praying, that there was some way his friend could still be alive. But having Dr. Spencer Reid actually in his apartment…

He had absolutely no idea of how long had passed until he realized that yes, Spencer was indeed there. Right? The man… was real, wasn't he?

A spark of terror striking through Derek glanced towards the general direction of where Spencer was where he first came home. The genius hadn't moved an inch. In the moments that followed he gave the other a good look, tried to see and understand.

Spencer… looked incredibly different from the last time he saw his friend. It wasn't just the hair and eyes. Spencer had clearly lost quite a bit of weight, which was alarming with how little the genius weighed to begin with. The man was pale and visibly exhausted if the bags underneath those haunted eyes were anything to go by. And very, very tense, a soldier waiting for the next hostile contact.

"You died." Well, if he had to start somewhere… With just those two words the damns became broken. His eyes actually narrowed. "You died! Prentiss, she… she saw you…!"

"I know." There was a sea of grief and remorse in Spencer's eyes when they finally turned to meet his. The doctor swallowed loudly. "I… I never, ever wanted things to go… there. But… They would've killed her, Morgan."

Derek scoffed, folding his arms. "So you made her watch you die instead? So you decided that it was alright to put us all through… _that_?"

Spencer curled tighter into himself, like someone who'd just been injured. It was incredible how small the tall man managed to appear. "They would've killed you all. Including Henry. I… I had no choice. It wasn't safe for me to stay alive. It still isn't safe."

"Then why did you come back?" The words flowed out before Derek could process them. Before he could stop the sharp and bitter edge. By the time he realized what he'd just slipped it was hopelessly too late. And in full honesty he was too hurt to even try to regret.

Spencer shuddered, pain and hurt pooling in those eyes when understanding seemed to dawn. The genius' lips opened but before another word was produced a knock interrupted them. They both tensed up and out of the corner of his eye Derek saw Spencer pull out a gun at a speed that stunned him. With the efficiency of a full trained soldier.

_What the hell did you do while you were away?_

The question burned on Derek's tongue. But he gritted his teeth together tightly and hauled his body up, beginning to make his way towards the door. All of a sudden he froze, wishing that he'd had the courage to peer over his shoulder to make sure. "You'd better be there when I come back", he growled.

At first there was only silence and for a moment his heart almost crumbled under the crushing weight of disappointment. But then… "I will be."

For now that'd have to do although Derek was nowhere even remotely close to trust. His feet were stiff and heavy when he dragged himself all the way to the apartment's door. For some reason he felt a touch of relief as Clooney had stayed behind to keep guard.

The team, along with John, appeared confused. Mycroft's face held that usual, awful stoic mask. "We got your text", Penelope spoke out. "What's going on?"

Derek swallowed heavily, hoping from the bottom of his heart and soul that the man he left behind would still be there. "There's… Something's come up. Just to warn you, this is going to be a shock."

* * *

Aaron's heart seemed to be taking extra leaps while he followed Derek to the living room, his posture tense and his body prepared for anything. Well, almost anything. Because there was absoluely no way he could've been prepared for seeing Spencer, alive and breathing, scanning through their faces with wary eyes.

Unable to even begin to process the emotions going through his own mind Aaron focused his attention on the rest of the team.

They all, save Mycroft who just seemed incredibly irritated, appeared far paler than usual. John gasped and blinked twice, shadows caused by unpleasant memories dancing in those blue eyes. Emily… was frozen, her eyes wide and nearly glazed over. Without a doubt the mental image of Spencer falling spun through her line of vision over and over again. She was trembling so badly that it was a small miracle she didn't fall down. JJ stared for a few long moments before something dangerous appeared to her eyes and she spun around, storming out of the apartment as fast as she could. She slammed the door with such volume that Spencer shuddered like he'd been shot at and the rest of them flinched. Derek went to follow her.

In a couple of seconds a grin took over David's face. "I knew it", the man declared, a barely audible tremor in his voice. "I knew that I saw you."

For a few moments Spencer simply stared at them all in a way that made Aaron wonder if the younger man considered them a threat. Moisture began to shimmer in those altered eyes. "I… I'm sorry", the supposedly deceased genius breathed out. "I'm so sorry."

The whole room remained frozen for a while. Then, so suddenly that it surprised the rest of them and most likely scared Spencer half dead, Penelope was moving. With Spencer unable to do a thing to defend himself the woman pounded his chest with both fists several times. "You… You… You…!" Tears were streaming down her cheeks while she screamed at him. So suddenly that it stunned Aaron her hands stilled, one fist opening and the open hand settling nearly tentatively to where the young man's heart was beating. "I'm so mad at you right now!"

Spencer swallowed thickly. His own hands twitched but didn't quite move. "I'm sorry", he whispered in a absolutely heartbreaking, broken voice that barely carried to where Aaron stood. "I'm sorry. But… There was no other way." Those desperate eyes searched through all of them. "I swear. If…"

His words were cut short when Penelope finally made her decision. She wrapped her arms as tightly as she could around Spencer, sealing him into a crushing hug. Her whole frame shuddered from loud sobs while she buried her face to his shoulder. Slowly, slowly, Spencer managed to move one arm to return her embrace. His lips opened but the words just wouldn't come out.

Seeing the traces of pain on Spencer's face Aaron frowned. His eyes scanned through the other's frame, unable to find answers from the covers of the dark clothes. Was the younger man injured? If so how badly?

Before he could actually ask, though, Mycroft sighed heavily. "I was afraid that you'd do something like this. You can be as insufferable as my brother sometimes."

Emily's eyes blazed upon meeting the British government. Her hands were shaking with sheer fury. "What?" she growled like a wounded lion, her tone making Clooney emit a whimper of startle. "Are you seriously telling me that you _knew_ this entire time? That all this time you watched me grieve, knowing fucking well that he was…!"

Mycroft sighed. His eyes were annoyed and tired. "Agent Prentiss…"

Emily's response was instant. With the speed of a attacking cheetah she was right in front of Mycroft, her fist approaching his face at a incredible speed. The man was, however, faster. With a firm hold he trapped her wrist.

Another sigh left the British government. "I might deserve that. But I'd very much appreciate it if you didn't." Not letting his hold on her falter for even a second he refocused on Spencer. "I'm sure that you can't even imagine what kind of a security and paperwork nightmare your sudden return from the death has caused."

Spencer's eyes flashed and for a moment Aaron was sure that soon the older man would have another person trying to swing in a eager punch. "You know full well why I decided to return." A voice like that had never left Spencer's mouth. "The circumstances have changed. For the sake of their safety they need to know everything."

* * *

JJ was feeling dizzy and sick to her stomach, enough so to gag dryly. In the end she didn't make it as far away from the source of her shock as she'd hoped. Instead she slumped to the hallway almost right outside Derek's apartment when her prosthetic leg failed her. Despite her best attempts she couldn't push herself up. The ball of frustration and fury brought tears to her eyes and several of them rolled, so hot that they seemed to burn on their way down. Her lips parted but the scream that wanted to crawl out just wouldn't come, leaving a foul taste lingering to her mouth.

This was too much.

_TOO MUCH._

She didn't hear the steps and shivered when Derek's voice spoke, colored by bitterness, shock and anger. "So… How does it feel to be on this side of the secret?"

JJ winced, the memories still slashing far deeper than they should've. "Do not bring the Doyle fiasco to this. Alright?" She emitted a unsteady sigh, rubbing her stinging eyes with both hands. She was beyond caring whether she'd end up destroying her makeup. She tried to get up, get away, but the prosthetic leg still wouldn't work for her. She tried to snarl but it came out as something closer to a yelp. "This fucking leg…!"

They remained in utter silence for what felt like ages until Derek finally spoke, so quietly that it could barely be heard. "He… He said that he had to do it. Or we would've all been killed. Henry, too."

At the mention of her son having been threatened JJ swallowed, her eyes flying wide. The sick feeling from before returned tenfold. "What?"

Derek took a deep breath. "I… I'm still pissed off at him. But… Maybe he had a reason."

JJ gulped, blinking away the moisture that'd pooled into her eyes. The taste in her mouth wasn't quite so horrific anymore, or perhaps she was getting used to it. "Yeah. Maybe."

There was another prolonged silence before Derek managed to bring himself to break it. "Do you want me to help you up?" He didn't sound quite as upset anymore. More tired.

JJ nodded, coming to a conclusion that there was no point in even trying to speak. Without saying a word in return Derek helped her up. It took another five minutes before they managed to bring themselves into entering the apartment, both of them wondering just what they'd find out.

* * *

John listened to Spencer's tale quietly, the words sweeping through without making a lot of sense. He learned that Sherlock had definitely known of Spencer being alive, was even the driving force in making the necessary arrangements. He learned that Spencer was the previously unnamed American agent that Mycroft mentioned several times. He learned that Spencer had spent his time undercover hunting down the leftovers of Moran's web. He also learned that Spencer was the last person Sherlock called before disappearing entirely.

"I'm sure that you've heard of Queen by now. We lost the traces of her nine months ago. At some point we learned that she was keeping a close eye on Sherlock."

"There was something she wanted from him", David mused out loud.

Spencer nodded. "In the end she contacted him, asked to spend a night of fun and sin with him. He went in, armed and expecting a trap. Mycroft lost contact on them both that night. Two weeks later he called me, saying that he was sorry but he'd have to cancel our dinner reservation. It was a sign that something was wrong."

John shuddered, a horrific feeling settling into the pit of his stomach. It took what felt like ages before he managed to squeeze out the words. "Do you… think that Queen and the others still have him?"

Spencer sighed, appearing ready to pass out for the briefest of moments before pulling himself together with a visible amount of effort. "I… don't know. I really hope not." It was clear why without it having to be spoken out loud. If Sherlock hadn't managed to get somewhere safe… then he was most likely already gone.

* * *

Back at the hospital the once more awake John Doe was very fast to spot the series of numbers tattooed to his arm. A phone number. But whose?

It was infuriating to be aware of the fact that he should've remembered but couldn't.

He drifted very, very deep in his thoughts, only partially aware of the fact that at some point a nursing student appeared to change the dressings of one of his wounds. He registered no physical discomfort even when she apologized, a horrified look on her face. All he could do was _think_.

He didn't fall back into reality until he realized that she'd left the room. And forgot something upon leaving. The ward's cell phone.

It took him only seconds to reach a decision. He took the item without a hint of hesitation and dialed numbers. Dialed, although he was dreading what he'd discover.

* * *

"Morgan… asked me why I came." Spencer's voice cut the silence that followed. His eyes were full of something close to terror. "There's… a possibility that me being alive has been discovered. You've been kept an eye on. There's a reason to believe that whatever little there's left of Moran's web will be closing in on your families to smoke me out."

JJ gritted her teeth so hard that it must've hurt. The woman's eyes darkened. "Then we'd better move fast before they get the chance to strike."

"They already have. That's… That's the second reason why I came back now." Tears shimmered in Spencer's eyes but miraculously none of them spilled. It took a moment before the man managed to go on. "I… I have a son, now. And they've got him. They have my child."

In the turmoil that admission caused John barely managed to spot that his cell phone was ringing. He frowned at the unfamiliar number. After exactly three seconds of hesitation he finally made up his mind and picked up. "Hello?"

The voice that spoke after a long pause was painfully familiar yet unrecognizable at the same time. Hesitant. "_John?_"

* * *

Henry was just beginning to make his way home from a friend's house when a woman with long, red hair blocked his path. He didn't like the smile on her face. "Hello there, little guy. I've been waiting for you for a while, now."

Henry frowned. Even took a step away, just like his mom and dad had taught him. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Her eyes gained a look that scared him really, really badly. "Oh, but you will talk to me unless you want mommy and daddy to get hurt." She knelt to his level, brushing his cheek with one carefully manicured finger. "Now let's go. Jack is right there in my car waiting for you and he'd be really upset if you wouldn't come, too."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh dear… (winces) So now it looks like the creeps have Henry, Jack AND – apparently – Reid's son. What, exactly, are they planning?! And what's up with the mystery patient?

PLEASE, do a note! Hearing from you seriously makes my day, ya know? I wonder if promising cyber cookies would do any good…

IN THE NEXT ONE: John is in for a far greater shock. And so is Aaron. Offered a deal that has no positive outcome, what will the unit chief do?

Until next time, folks! I truly hope that you'll all join in then.

Take care!


	5. Hard Bargaining

A/N: Mmm, it's really good to be back. (beams) Missed me?

Before getting to the actual business, though… Thank you so, so much for your absolutely amazing reviews and support! You can't even imagine how thrilled every single sign of affection this story gets makes me. (beams) So thank you! (hugs)

Awkay… I'm a bit nervous about this chapter so I'll just cut the chase. I truly hope that you'll enjoy this!

* * *

Hard Bargaining

* * *

John actually had to support himself against the wall to make sure that he remained upright. For a second or two everything swayed until Captain Watson took over. "Sherlock?" Absently he noticed that the name caused a degree of havoc in the room around him. He inhaled and exhaled. "Where are you? Are you alright?"

"_I'm fine._" Sherlock's voice was a little too tight, almost strangled. For a moment it was quiet. "_John, who are you? Why do I have your number tattooed on my arm?_"

John felt like someone had poured ice water to his veins. He froze entirely. It was excruciatingly hard to find his voice and it didn't come out right. "You… don't remember?"

Sherlock emitted a exasperated sound. In the middle of the chaos it was soothingly familiar. "_I wouldn't be asking you if I remembered, now would I?_" The man seemed to contemplate for a while before continuing. "_I'm in a hospital. And I'm trying to figure out who put me here._"

John shuddered, his eyes widening in response to the flood of worry and fear. "How badly were you hurt?" If Sherlock couldn't remember it might mean brain damage. Were there broken bones? Internal injuries?

"_I'm awake, coherent and talking to you. That's about all you need to know._" Sherlock's voice was… softer, somehow. Like a piece had clicked to place. "_But I want answers, now. I have a feeling that the people who attacked me won't stop once they realize that they failed. Because they were trying to kill me, weren't they?_"

John stiffened completely. "Stay right there, alright? I'll make sure that you're safe, I promise. Just stay put." _Sherlock, for once in your bloody life do as you're told!_ He gulped laboriously. "I… I'll be there soon. I'll give you the answers you need. Just… Just wait for me, okay? Wait."

"_I refuse to lay around here playing a sitting duck._" There were sounds, most likely someone was approaching the room. "_Goodbye, John._" With that the phone call was over.

John stood absolutely still, staring at the cell phone in his far from steady hand. His heart hammering furiously while far too many unpleasant memories washed over. And he could only wish, from the bottom of his heart, that he'd hear Sherlock's voice again.

* * *

Aaron frowned, observing John's ghostly white face. When the man wouldn't move an inch or make a sound he spoke instead. "John?"

Hearing his name seemed to pull the doctor back to awareness. In a flash the man was moving, his expression stern and face stone hard. "He's in a hospital. Penelope, can you trace this number?"

The woman nodded. "Sure, of course." She glanced at the former soldier's cell phone, then typed furiously for a moment. "And… here it is."

They all gave the screen a look. Aaron's eyes hardened while a decision was made. Waiting and wondering had been torture for him. This was the part he could handle. "John, JJ and I will be coming to the hospital with you. Reid and Prentiss, you'll go and see the mentioned Sherlock's last known location. The rest of you, go to Garcia's apartment. She has the best technology. See if you can find anything new." Almost right after the terse nods his cell phone began to ring, like someone had been waiting for the exact right moment. He frowned at the unfamiliar number. "Get ready. We'll leave in a few minutes."

Aaron didn't pick up until he'd made it to the hallway. Somehow he had a very bad feeling floating inside him long before he spoke. "Agent Hotchner."

"_Hello, Aaron._" The female voice was purring. Hazardous. "_I'm sure that you know who I am._"

Aaron's jaw tightened. His eyes swept towards the apartment's door, calculating seconds. Would he be able to notify the others? "Queen."

"_Yes. It's quite flattering to gain such a majestic name. Most might find it too theatrical but I'm not the most._" There was a pause. As though she'd been counting and calculating as well. "_Now, there's a reason why I'm calling you. I'm proposing a deal you might find interesting._"

Aaron felt a breath of cold. A warning. "Why would I accept any deal you might have to offer?"

The woman didn't have to answer. A voice that made Aaron's heart stop for a unhealthy period of time did it for her. "_Miss?_" Jack. What _the hell_ was Jack doing there, in that psychopath's hands? "_Danny's crying. I think he's hungry._"

"_I'll be there to feed him in just a second, love. Now be nice and quiet. You remember the rules, don't you?_" As soon as there was the sound of a door closing she went on. "_Do I have your attention now, agent?_"

Aaron was seething. On the verge of screaming. It was a miracle that his voice came out as strong as it did. "What do you want?"

"_I want you to play with me for a while._" Her voice was still smooth as silk but even more dangerous than before. "_Along with Jack I have Jennifer's children and Dr. Reid's son Danny. Do exactly as I say and you'll be able to save one of them. Contact the authorities or alarm your team and you can consider our deal off._"

Aaron felt like he'd been stabbed repeatedly. For a moment a hellish burning took over his eyes. He was barely able to blink it away.

"You're not going to get away with this", he growled. "Beth… She'll start to wonder. So will JJ and Will."

"_I wouldn't worry about Beth too much. It appears that her sister… had an accident. You wouldn't believe how relieved she was when she found a babysitter who was able to pick Jack up from school. I'd imagine that she won't be back for a while. You really should check your voicemail more often. She must've left you a hundred messages by now. Will, on the other hand, is working a particularly long day. I wonder if Jennifer even remembers as much anymore? The poor babysitter. She was a lovely young lady._"

Aaron's eyes snapped once more towards the apartment's door. JJ and Spencer… They were right there. If only…

"_Now, now. You still remember our deal, don't you? A word to Spencer or Jennifer… and you can all say goodbye to your children._"

Aaron wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. It took absolutely all he had to keep himself together. "What do you want me to do?"

"_Good, I see that we're reaching an understanding. Well, for starters… Be a dear and lift your right arm._"

With a frown Aaron hesitated for a second, then did as he'd been told. For a couple of seconds it was eerily silent. Then the woman chuckled in a way that brought chills through him.

"_Now there's a good boy. That's all for now, Aaron. Wait for further instructions and please, do keep your cell phone on. Your son's life depends on it._" Without any warning whatsover she hung up.

"Hotch?" There was a frown on JJ's strained face. "Is… everything alright?"

Aaron nodded, working his hardest to keep his expression under control. All of him was screaming at him to open his mouth and… "Everything's fine. Now let's go. The faster we get this sorted the better."

JJ nodded slowly. Doubt lingered in her eyes but at the moment she seemed to decide not to waste time on prying further. John walked two steps ahead of them just as quietly. They didn't speak another word on their way out.

* * *

In the meantime the John Doe – Sherlock, apparently – lay in his bed, a look of deep concentration on his face. His thoughts spun and whirred, desperately trying to grasp on something that was just out of his reach. His whole body was twitching with discomfort.

There was something coming. He could feel it as clearly as he was able to sense his heart beating. Something… very, very unpleasant. And he was stuck in a hospital.

Now that was a bit of not good.

He simply couldn't allow that.

_I'm sorry, John. But I'm done waiting around._

Apparently the nurses had decided that it was time to start rehabilitating him because there was a wheelchair beside his bed. Good. He was almost amusingly eager to test it.

It was a struggle. His muscles were stiff and a bit weak from his time in a bed and his injuries howled protests when he shoved himself into motion, using absolutely all of his stubbornness to keep himself mobile. He nearly slumped to the floor three times but by sheer miracle he did manage to reach the chair. As soon as he'd sat down he gasped, busying his head with preparations for whatever was to come in order to keep himself from focusing on the agony.

He'd do this. If this John was indeed someone to be trusted he'd find the man. He'd find all of the answers that he needed. He'd get his memories and himself back.

But first… Well, he'd need to get the bloody wheelchair moving.

It turned out to be less of a feat than he'd feared. Gritting his teeth hard to block out his body's nagging protests he began to wheel himself. Pleased that the door didn't make a sound when he pushed it open he peered to the hallway. There was a cop outside his room but it seemed that the man, a rather attractive twenty-eight or something year old, wouldn't be a problem. Not with how intently the man was flirting with a blushing nurse. Good.

Unnoticed by anyone Sherlock slipped out of the room, pushing his way through the hallway and out of the ward. He was about to make his way to a elevator, wishing that no one would talk to a patient in a wheelchair, when he spotted something. A cart full of the staff's uniforms that'd most likely just come out of a wash. A smirk appeared to his face.

This was almost too good to be true.

He took a glance around, then pushed whatever strength he still had to the extreme and got up. His legs ached and wobbled but in the end his stubbornness won. With only a slight stumble he made his way to the cart.

One step at a time. The slow pace frustrated him beyond all belief but that was what he'd have to deal with. Everything would work out. He'd make sure of it.

Snatching clothes and beginning to struggle his way towards a restroom he wondered why it felt like someone was watching him.

* * *

There was a tense silence lingering around Spencer and Emily while she drove them on. They barely dared to look at each other. There were too many things that should've been said but the time just wasn't right for all that.

"So…", Emily stated in the end, deciding that she was done with the quiet. "Your son was taken… from a prison?"

Spencer nodded stiffly, folding his arms. Clearly this was a touchy topic. "He was born there." Sensing her shock he went on. "His mother… is one of Moran's henchmen that I had to get close to for information." And apparently he ended up _too_ close.

Emily blinked twice, trying to process all this. To imagine the Spencer Reid she once knew in a pretend romance with a cold blooded murderer… "How did she end up there?"

"I put her there." Short. Sharp. A clear sign not to pry any further.

There was, however, still something that Emily wanted to know. Even though it _hurt_ to see how much pain this all was bringing on a man a part of her still considered one of her closest friends. "How was he taken?"

"By Moran's former employee posing as a social worker. She may even have been one. It took two days before I found out." Spencer sounded like he was in a great deal of agony. It was highly likely that he was. He swallowed loudly. "Look, Emily… I'm… sorry." There was such a degree of pain in his eyes that made her stomach twist. "I… I never meant to make you watch. I swear." He looked at her, visibly begging for her to believe. "If there was any other way…"

"I understand." It was curt, clipped. Very unlike what Emily originally had in mind. "I do. I may be the only member of our team who does." Yet she didn't manage to convince even herself. Looking his way as little as she could she practically bolted out of the vehicle. "I'm sorry, too. For your son. But we'll find him, I promise." This time she sounded sincere. She sighed. "Now let's go and see if we're able to spot something the csi-unit missed."

Not exchanging much of a word they entered the block of flats that could've used some serious renovation. Their steps were stiff and careful while they made their way towards the correct apartment, their hands never straying far from their guns. Every step sounded unnaturally loud in the ice cold silence. And then they saw the door. Both froze.

The police's crime scene seals had been broken, giving a loud signal that someone had been in the apartment before they got the chance to see it.

They exchanged a look, both wondering if they were about to walk right into a trap. In the end they decided that the chance was worth taking if it meant an end to this sick farce. Even more prepared than before they approached, their steps and moves in perfect synchronisation.

The barely furnitured, single room apartment was dark. And eerily clean. Someone had done a great job with changing everything back to the way things were before. Even the text Sherlock left behind had been wiped away. If they'd been hoping to find new evidence they'd been sorrily mistaken.

Or… perhaps not entirely.

For there in the middle of the floor was a baby's blanket.

When Spencer began to move Emily's eyes widened, scanning around. "Reid, what the hell are you doing? That could be a trap!" It was around then she noticed the initials that'd been sewn to the fabric. _D.R._ The realization made her stomach drop. She could only hope that the item wasn't the last thing left of Spencer's son.

Spencer's eyes carried a hazardous gleam. His jaw tightened to an extend that hurt to watch. "Just stand back", he bit out.

Emily took two slow steps back and held her breath while he took the blanket. Nothing happened. No trap was triggered. She almost dared to inhale a sigh of relief until she noticed the way Spencer's shoulders first slumped, then tensed up unnaturally. It was seconds later she discovered why.

There were two large stains of blood staining the white fabric, followed by words that'd been written in ominous red.

_Perhaps you should've stayed dead._

* * *

JJ's fingers twitched restlessly while she, John and Aaron left the car, beginning to make their way towards the hospital. They'd spoken barely a word but none of them seemed to notice. Their thoughts were in a hundred places all at once.

In the end Aaron found himself talking right outside the building's door. He licked his lips while making sure that John had gone ahead, wondering how to start. "JJ… How far would you be ready to go to protect your family?"

JJ gave him a confused look, the anger that'd been sitting on her face disappearing for the briefest of moments. "Why… are you asking something like that?"

Aaron gulped, a heavy weight sitting on his shoulders. "I was just wondering." _Because I really hope that you'll understand. That even if you'd be unable to forgive me…_

"Excuse me, hi." So they'd reached the ward where the call came from. JJ flashed the somewhat suspicious looking nurse, Meredith, her badge and a picture of Sherlock. "We're with the FBI. A patient contacted a member of our team. Has this man has been admitted to the ward?"

Seeming to sense that the nurse still had doubts John spoke out. "I'm Dr. John Watson. That man is Sherlock Holmes. I'm his emergency contact."

That seemed to reassure the nurse at least a little bit. Some of the guardedness of her posture melting away she took the photo and examined it. In a while her eyes widened. "Yes, yes! His hair's different, but… Yes, he's here. He was the victim of a vicious assault, which is why the police is guarding his room." She frowned. "Why… would the FBI be interested?"

"We have a reason to expect that he has information on a case we're currently working on." Aaron was surprised to discovered that his voice was finally functioning. "We're aware of his… trauma, but perhaps we could talk to him for a moment. Just to see if he could help."

The nurse nodded although it was clear that she didn't like the idea. "I'm afraid that he'll be very little help but you may interview him for five minutes. Just bear in mind, if you agitate him in any way I'll have you escorted out of the ward. Is that understood?" Once they'd all nodded meekly the nurse smiled. "Good. Now why don't you follow me?"

Just as Aaron was about to follow the trio he was stopped by the sound of his cell phone announcing a new text message. "You go on", he urged JJ. "I'll be there in a second." As soon as he could be sure that John and the women were gone he dared to look at the message. The words made his mouth go painfully dry.

'_I'm about to give you your very first assignment. Leave the hospital and make sure that you're not followed. You'll receive further instructions in the car. And in case you need additional encouragement, remember that it's your son's life on the line._'

While Aaron began to make his way out of the building John, JJ and the nurse reached Sherlock's room. The nurse's lips parted while she began to open the door. All words, however, got trapped into the woman's throat by the sight.

There wasn't a tace left of Sherlock.

* * *

The remaining team, along with Mycroft, attempted to come up with something they may have missed before. They didn't have much of success, though. It was like they'd been attempting to chase a group of ghosts.

Penelope was just digging through some information when completely without a warning her computer froze. Before she had the time to emit a shout of rage the screen went completely, utterly black. After some furious typing she was able to get it open again. Only to have the word '_Hello_' filling the screen, repeated what seemed like a thousand times. And then, just as suddenly, the computer was back to normal. The only sign of something being off was a small, green dot blinking on the upper right corner. Until a breath later the machine crashed once more.

Derek clearly sensed her distress. He walked closer with a frown. "What's wrong?" He glanced towards the screen and blinked. "What were you doing?"

Penelope waved one hand while the other grabbed her hair in a loud sign of exasperation. "I'm not _doing_ anything! Someone's hacked…" The words got stuck into her throat when text appeared to the screen.

_Welcome to the game._

"Can you trace that?" Derek's voice tight. That of a caged tiger roaring against its bars. The rage was right there, bubbling underneath the surface.

Penelope took a deep breath before her first attempt. She blinked twice with surprise when succeeding. "I… can." She then frowned and groaned. "It's not easy, though. The signal's jumping all over the place. But, hang on. Maybe I can…" She trailed off, her face blanching.

"Garcia?" There was a great deal of nervousness in David's voice. "What is it?"

"It's… The signal…" She gulped hard, her hands trembling badly. "It's… coming from Hotch's computer at the bureau."

The group barely had the time to process this information. To try and figure out what, exactly, it could mean. Because seconds later something else claimed their attention.

All of a sudden the screen flickered black for the third time. Only to come back to life seconds later. Numbers were counting downwards.

* * *

In a small, isolated house the Queen's cell phone began to ring. With a sigh she inched closer to the item. Her eyebrow bounced up at the caller ID.

'_Dave_'

She picked up, more out of curiosity than anything else. "Hey. Aren't you at work? What's wrong?" Like she hadn't known already.

David Rossi sighed heavily. "_I'm sorry but I have to cancel our date night. Something… has come up._" He sounded choked, out of breath.

She inhaled deeply, rolling her eyes. So he was lying to her, now? This was starting to feel like a real relationship. "I understand", she reassured him sweetly. "Is it something you can talk to me about?"

David's breath shuddered. It was amusing, really, that it took him longer to build up a truth than a lie. "_I'm sorry._"

_Oh, trust me, you will be._ "It's okay. I know your line of job." Her eyes flashed at the sound of a car being parked outside the house. "Be safe, love."

"_I'll try my best._" There was a brief pause. "_I love you._"

Her eyes darkened when she saw out of the corner of her eye how Henry peered in through the slightly ajar door. "I love you, too. Call me as soon as you can." Once the phone call was over she glared at the child. "Now off to bed with you. You wouldn't want mommy and daddy to become upset, would you?"

With a quick, frantic shake of a head Henry vanished.

She groaned, sensing that someone else had just entered the room. "I'm never, ever going to have children", she growled, then glanced over her shoulder. A cold smile appeared to her lips at the sight of the arrival. "Hello, brother dear."

James Moriarty smiled back, a menacing gleam in his dark eyes. "My apologies that it took this long to arrive. There was… an old friend that I was eager to handle first." His eyes swept towards the door behind which the kids were. "I see that the two of you have been busy."

She smirked. "We have. It's only a matter of time before this will all be over."

James' eyes flashed hazardously. "That's where you're wrong. This isn't the ending. This is only just the beginning."

* * *

/ _While everyone down on the ground was focused on the supposed suice of Sherlock Holmes a lone figure made his way to the rooftop. Heavy, steady footsteps paused right before the still, bloodied body of James Moriarty. Dark, emotionless eyes watched, observed._

_"It's over", Sebastian Moran announced._

_In a flash the corpse was full of life. Moriarty smirked, his eyes alight with black flames. Slowly and smoothly the criminal mastermind pushed himself up. "Oh, no." James glanced down where a nurse was trying to coax John Watson to get up and move. "The game just got started."_ /

* * *

TBC?

* * *

A/N: Uh huh… Now THAT was A LOT of things happening! Moriarty's alive. All their kids have been kidnapped. Sherlock just took off. Hotch's forced to play on the wrong side of this sick game. What's gonna come out of this mess? (shudders)

PLEASE, leave a note – let me know your thoughts and feelings! Awww, c'mon. The easiest 'good deed of the day' you could muster! (winks)

Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	6. Set the World on Fire

A/N: Dang, I did it! I managed a Thursday update despite my mad schedule! (beams) We'll see how this little one turned out…

BUT, first… THANK YOU, so very much, for your reviews, listings and support! It means a lot to me that you guys are willing to sit through this sequel, ya know? So thank you! (HUGS)

Awkay, because I doubt any of you guys came here for my ramblings… Let's rock! I truly hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Set the World on Fire

* * *

/ _Eveleen Moriarty was four years old when she woke up at six thirty in the morning to unfamiliar adult voices talking downstairs. With a frown she climbed out of her bed and tiptoed closer, eager to see and hear. A tremor of sheer terror crossed her when she saw two police officers talking to a woman in formal clothes._

_Coppers were never good news, that's what her parents taught her. Why were they here? Where were mommy and daddy?_

_"… no other choice but to shoot at them", one of the officers explained in a deep voice. The man sounded tired and irritated. "Those people are getting more and more aggressive."_

_The woman sighed, running a hand through her long, reddish blond hair. Something Eveleen identified as pity danced in her eyes. "The poor kids. How many of them did you say there were? Two?"_

_The rest drowned out for Eveleen. Her eyes widened and filled with tears while such pain she could've never even imagined filled absolutely all of her. Her mouth opened but the scream of sheer agony wouldn't come out. Somehow, despite her age, she understood all too clearly what was going on. Her whole body was trembling pitiably._

_Mommy and daddy… She wanted her mommy and daddy. She needed…!_

_It took her all to hold back a yelp of startle when a hand was laid to her shoulder. Peering towards the arrival she met the solemn eyes of her older brother James. "Don't worry", the boy whispered. "Whatever happens I'll find you. Just the two of us against the rest of the world, remember?"_

_Eveleen nodded. Slowly her small hand found his and grabbed it tightly. The whole gesture was full of trust and belief._

_Trust that never once faltered even though mere hours later they'd been separated and just a couple of more days later she was on her way to America._

_It took ten years before they met again._ /

* * *

After inserting a disc the content of which he could only guess into his computer at the bureau Aaron would've known even without instructions that hiding was the best option. So he did. He sat at the corner table of a quiet café, careful to make sure that there was no one behind him and constantly scanning through his environment. He wondered if this was what the rest of his life would be like.

He'd been expecting his phone to ring. That's why he picked up in a record time. "What next?" he spat out.

"_Well aren't we hostile? I was under the impression that federal agents are supposed to have a rather good stress tolerance._" Queen was practically purring. "_Now, I want you to deliver a little package for me._"

As though on cue Aaron noticed how a waitress whose face he couldn't see dropped something. A small, seemingly harmless brown box. Everything turned cold while realization dawned. _No…!_ "What if I refuse?" He asked although a large part of him already knew.

Queen's response was instant. "_Right now I have a knife on little Jack's throat. He's asleep, the poor thing cried himself to sleep, but I can wake him up just for you. So are you going to do as I tell you or will you give me the pleasure of getting to do as I please?_"

* * *

John's head was buzzing with rage, worry and disappointment while he followed JJ to Penelope's apartment. He'd been so close to finding Sherlock. Why couldn't the bloody idiot listen to him, for just this once?

The rest of the group appeared confused and shaken while inspecting them. In the end David was the one to speak out. "What's… going on?"

"Sherlock had taken off", JJ half spat. Her hands were shaking badly. "Hotch is missing, too."

David swallowed thickly, alarm shining loud and clear in his eyes. "I'll try to call Aaron", the man offered instantly.

JJ shook her head. That grim expression looked out of place on her face. "Don't bother, I've tried fifteen times already. Whatever he's up to he's planning on doing it alone."

The others exchanged looks and John couldn't help wondering just how much they'd missed during the brief period of time they spent away. In the end Derek nearly whispered. "Look… I know that we've had enough of bad news already but you should see this." The agent turned Penelope's laptop so that they could see the screen.

John's whole world tilted on its axis at the sight of the countdown.

The last time they faced one of those it turned out that he had a bomb inside his head. Where was the danger lurking this time? Just how deep was this mess going to get?

He waited until the others appeared preoccupied enough by the new turns of events before he made his retreat. He wasn't going to do a Sherlock and run off on his own, of course. If he wanted to bring an end to this he needed to co-operate with these agents. But he needed a breath, a moment – just one fucking moment, thank you very much – to regain control over himself and get his thoughts back together.

Once he was in the bathroom he made sure that the water was cold enough before splashing it to his face. Once. Twice. Thrice. The temperature sent a shockwave through him but he didn't mind. His body had been on a overdrive to begin with.

Perhaps Spencer and Emily would find something from that apartment.

Perhaps they'd finally receive a clue that wouldn't leave them with more questions than answers.

Perhaps Sherlock would come to him.

Surely a bit of fool's hope couldn't do any harm?

John was in the middle of trying to decide whether he was ready to return to the others when his cell phone bleeped. Giving the infuriating item a look he frowned at what he discovered. No, it wasn't a message from Sherlock. The text was from a unfamiliar number.

'_I want you to think really hard, Dr Watson. You trust fast and deeply. But are you absolutely certain that your trust isn't misplaced? Are you sure that you know who your nearest and dearest really is?_'

Another bleep. John's finger was eerily steady when he investigated the source. It was from the same number as the message. It seemed that he'd received some sort of a video clip.

* * *

Elsewhere Spencer did his hardest to keep himself breathing. To keep himself together. Emily could see that much when she emerged from the apartment after sending Aaron a quick message to let the team know what was going on. She was still hurt, angry and disappointed. But her heart nonetheless broke at the sight of Spencer in such a condition.

Emily lifted her hand but in the end didn't dare to touch him in fear of crossing a line of some sort. Instead she took a deep breath, stepping as close as she dared to. "What do you want to do?" she asked in the end.

Spencer emitted a brief, bitter laugh. "Honestly? I want to tear those who took my son to pieces." And he meant it, she could see it in his eyes. This wasn't the innocent, naïve man she met once upon a time.

The change in Spencer scared her. But still she understood. If someone harmed the little boy Elle Greenaway left into her care… She went on after a while. "We should go back to the others. Perhaps they've managed to find something."

There was a change in Spencer, right there. All of a sudden the man's posture straightened and his face gained an expression of steel Emily had never, ever seen before. The fire in those eyes was that of a soldier ready for battle. The person she was looking at was a man the years chasing Moran's web had moulded. "I need to stop by somewhere else first", Spencer announced, his voice strong and thoughtful.

When he began to walk away she followed. He gave her a look of surprise, obviously not having expected her to come along. "What…?"

Emily scoffed. "You just came back after I thought that you were dead for over two years. There's no way I'll let you out of my sight now."

There was no mistaking the touch of pain in Spencer's eyes but the genius also appeared genuinely touched and relieved.

They walked out side by side, in a silence that was comfortable for once. She could control herself until they were in her car. "So… Who are we going to meet?"

She wasn't entirely sure what to make of the look in Spencer's eyes. "A… friend who owes me a favor. A word of warning, though… They don't like visitors too much."

Emily gulped while starting the car, wondering just what kind of a madness she'd managed to get herself into.

* * *

Aaron's whole body was tense with stress and a million other emotions while he approached a car parked outside a heavily fenced, massive building. A frown appeared to his face while his eyes scanned around, looking for answers. None were offered.

There were no people nearby. It was highly unlikely that whatever was in the box would be able to do much damage on the factory, if that building even really was one. So why this location?

Were they trying to test his resolve? Or was this a message? Or something he couldn't quite understand just yet?

With his nerves fried to extreme he shuddered when his cell phone began to ring. It took a touch longer than he would've liked to pick up. "Now what?"

"_Now, sweetie, you put the box into the car and leave it there. Plain and simple, isn't it?_" Queen's voice was still smooth but there was no mistaking the sharp edge. She was losing her patience. If she did Jack would pay the price. "_Move, agent. Or do you wish me to demonstrate just how bad of a girl I am when I get bored?_"

Aaron wished, from the bottom of his heart and soul, that he would've been able to give someone a warning. That he would've known for sure that he wasn't making a disastrous mistake. That he wasn't about to cause something irreversible. His heart was heavy when he opened the back door and dropped the box there.

"_Good. Now walk away. I'd suggest you to hurry._"

It took twenty steps before Aaron managed to find his voice. Still he sounded choked, or perhaps drowned, even to his own ears. "Why… Why are you doing this? Who the hell are you?"

"_So you still haven't figured it out? I'm disappointed, Aaron._" Her voice changed, became such that chilled him. There was a thick Irish accent. "_Are you _sure_ that you don't know me?_"

Right there Aaron's eyes widened with understanding while a river of ice flowed through him.

* * *

/ _Sitting on a hospital bed a fourteen years old Eveleen Moriarty – because that was the only name she'd ever recognize as hers – felt itching in her veins, beneath her bruised skin. Her eyes, one of them decorated by a majestic shiner, burned with such fire that would've given any adult chills. Her tightly balled fists trembled, bloodied knuckles turning white from pressure underneath all the mess. Each and every swing she'd received played through her head like a movie, as did the words of a man who'd pretended to be her father for the past year and a half._

_'_… lousy waste of space._'_

_'_I'll teach you manners._'_

_'_… not even a child of mine._'_

_'_There's a special place in hell for the likes of your parents._'_

_This was all just one stop on her way back home, Eveleen reminded herself. She'd endured worse than this pathetic drunk. She told him as much, too. He hadn't broken her. She'd recover. And then she'd show the world just what she was made of._

_Her ears sharpened to a low male voice that all but growled in the hallway. "… my sister. I'm going to look after her now, since the social services obviously aren't doing their job well."_

_The doctor who just talked to her, asking pointless questions, sounded scared. "Mr. Moriarty, I understand that you're upset. But…"_

_"No, doctor. I'm not upset." The other man was practically hissing. It was the last warning of a rattlesnake. "Now, be so kind and take care of the necessary arrangements. Because I have a rather expensive lawyer who is also a generous donor to this establishment. Unless, of course, you'd wish to run this past him?" Mere seconds later the room's door opened._

_Eveleen's eyes lit up and although it hurt she melted to a grin. Perhaps ten years had passed but there was no way she would've been unable to recognize her own brother. "Jim!"_

_"Didn't I promise to find you? I've come to take you home." James Moriarty smiled in a way she remembered very well while closing the door, leaving the pale and sweating doctor outside. "We have a whole empire to rule, Evie. Are you ready to watch the world burn?"_

_She nodded without the slightest bit of hesitation._ /

* * *

Exactly five minutes later the car exploded with a deafening bang, hungry flames rising greedily towards the sky.

Despite the cold shivers of dread going through him John came to the conclusion that he'd have to take a look. That he needed to see. Needed to, although he had no idea if he'd be able to handle what he'd find.

He was just about to press 'play' when Mycroft's voice spoke. The man sounded a great deal more tense than usual. "I wouldn't suggest you to do that."

John gritted his teeth, peering over his shoulder. "Enough with those games", he snarled. "I'm not in the mood, Mycroft."

"How much do you trust Sherlock?"

John shuddered where he stood, blinking twice with stun. He was quick to compose himself. The certainty came naturally. "You already know the answer. With my life." He met the British government's eyes, trying to find answers. "Why would you ask that?"

Mycroft sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "Your answer may change when you take a look at that footage." The other man took a deep breath. "I came here to find my brother but not entirely for the reasons I've told you."

John folded his arms, ice pumping through his heart. His head was buzzing. "Then why?"

Mycroft searched his eyes. It was impossible to tell if the official found what he was looking for. "Because a couple of days after Sherlock's disappearance something… came up. Bits of evidence that came out of nowhere, it seems. I'd assume that the footage you're just about to see includes every little bit." There was a brief, heavy pause. "At the moment Sherlock is the prime suspect in the murders of your wife and daughter."

John couldn't breathe. Couldn't focus. Could barely think. It took absolutely all he had not to slump to the floor.

The evidence… It had to be bad if even Mycroft felt the need to get involved. If even Mycroft, who'd seen just how deep the trust John had on Sherlock went, feared his reaction.

"What's on the footage?" John's voice was that he used in military. His heart was hammering madly. "After everything I've been through with and because of him… Why would _this_ change my mind about him?"

Mycroft never got the chance to say a word. Because just then they heard Derek's voice. "_You two, get over here! You've gotta see this._"

The two Brits exchanged a long, loudly speaking look. This matter was far from dropped. Neither of them said a word while they marched towards the living room, keeping an eye on each other like two enemies who'd just formed a frail truce.

The rest of the remaining team was gathered around Penelope's laptop. The woman appeared unhealthily pale while attempting to speak. "I… Kevin sent me a message, telling me that I should see this. It's… It's all over the news by now."

John leaned closer with a frown, trying to ignore the part of his mind that screamed against his decision.

At first they saw surveillance footage of a car exploding right outside a massive building John couldn't identify. While flames rose high they saw a blurry figure walking away. And then, without any warning, the footage changed and the face of a man appeared, looking directly at the camera with a piercing stare. A collection of gasps erupted. John's heart stopped.

Staring at them was no one other than Sherlock Holmes. After exactly four seconds the man began to speak in a voice that sounded entirely too familiar. "_It seems that I have your attention now. Good. We've been hiding in the shadows for too long._" Sherlock's eyes hardened, turned into ice. "_I've decided to inform you that the pathetic world you've been living in is about to come to an end. It's been dying for a very long time. We've decided to enforce to process. So prepare yourselves, for this is only just the beginning. This illusion of a world is about to burn down. May the fittest survive._" With those ominous words the screen went black and a second later the countdown that'd been on the screen before re-appeared.

John stared in a total shock, feeling like his whole world had been falling apart around him. All breath left his body while this bizarre numbness took over. It was a miracle that he didn't throw up right there.

In his current state of mind John didn't even notice the sound that came when a window cracked and a bullet flew in.

* * *

There was a stiff silence in the car while Spencer and Emily made their way towards their new location. They were both deep in thought and tense. Both of them had a unnerving, strong feeling that there was something dark approaching.

"We're almost there", Spencer announced in the end, eager to cut the silence. And to escape his thoughts, too. A small tremor went through him when he recognized a sign on the side of the road most people would've paid no attention to. "Turn left."

Emily frowned, most definitely wondering why they were headed towards a area where according to all sense no one should've lived. In the end she obeyed without much of hesitation. Somehow it offered him a hint of comfort.

After a couple of more quiet minutes he felt Emily's eyes sweep towards him. It took a couple of seconds before she spoke. "Your son's okay, you know. That blood we saw… It most likely wasn't his."

Spencer nodded tersely. In full truth he was in a desperate need for something, anything, else but Danny to focus on before he'd lose his mind. From the corner of his eye he noticed that Emily had placed her hand to her stomach for the tenth time during the relatively short drive. He hesitated for a few seconds before voicing his thoughts. "I… may have been away from you guys for a while. But I still notice things." He swallowed before speaking out the rest. "How long have you known that you're pregnant?"

Emily nearly drove off the road right there. Her eyes widened to what should've been impossible extend and she gasped, some color fading from her face. Her lips parted. But that was the furthest she got.

Out of the blue the large yet very isolated house they were about to park in front of exploded with a blinding light that brought the end of the world to Spencer's mind. The blast hit the vehicle after a moment, sending it reeling violently. And everything succumbed to chaos.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Okay… Soooo… That was… (blinks) Well, it seems that we have quite a mess in our hands, doesn't it?

Thoughts? Something you wish to share? After a chapter like this I have a feeling that some of you may have… You know where to drop a line or two. (winks)

Awkay, because after this double cliffie (or is it triple?) I'm feeling this strong urge to RUN. Sooo, until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that you'll all join in then.

Take care!


	7. The Shadows of Past

A/N: It's Thursday, ya all! And you know what that means. (smirks) BUT, first…

THANK YOU, so very much, for the reviews and love you've given this story! My rl schedule's a bit manic right now so it means a lot to have you sticking by this story. (beams and hugs)

Awkay… Because I think that I owe you some answers after the previous chapter, let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy this one.

* * *

The Shadows of Past

* * *

For several long moments it was completely, unnervingly silent and still. The group gathered into Penelope's living room barely dared to breathe in fear of what it might trigger. In the end Derek was the one who rose from where he'd ducked at the sound of the bullet, a gun firmly in his steady hold. "Is everyone alright?" he demanded in a bark that was colored by more than a touch of terror.

Slowly everyone nodded. Muttered that they were fine. Hesitantly started to get up from where they'd ducked.

Everyone except for John. For the doctor never went down in the first place. He formed soldier's fists were balled so tightly that in a more coherent state of mind he might've been worried about breaking skin. But as it was all he managed to focus on was the sight in the mirror before him. The image was all too clear despite the fact that the bullet, which missed John head with about two millimetres, had shattered a part of the glass. The image showed a man on the opposite building's rooftop. There was a entirely too smug smirk on the face of James Moriarty while the supposedly dead madman lowered his gun, then gave a brief wave before disappearing like a ghost.

John shivered at the feel of a hand on his shoulder. Looking quickly to side he saw JJ's lips moving but his ears were ringing from the bullet so he couldn't hear the words. He was, however, fairly sure that she was asking if he was alright so he nodded although he wasn't quite sure.

Surely it couldn't be Moriarty right there? Moriarty was dead and gone. Moriarty was _gone_. Nothing but a very unpleasant memory.

Someone offered him a glass of water. He accepted it with a nod of gratitude, hating the way his hand shook while he attempted to take a sip. Hated how his spinning head and a rapidly intensifying headache made it practically impossible to think straight.

The ringing in John's ears eased just in time for him to hear Sherlock's voice. Everyone else had already gathered close to Penelope's laptop, which had gained a life of its own once more. There was a frosty grin on the man's face. "_… that serve as enough of a warning for you?_"

John gritted his teeth so hard that it hurt. His eyes and blood blazed. "You could've had one of us killed! With the help of James bloody Moriarty!" he snarled, his heart hammering a million miles per hour. Was that man really his friend? Surely even with amnesia… "Sherlock, what the fucking hell is this?! What are you doing?"

Sherlock chuckled in chilling manner, shaking his head. "_You honestly have no idea of what's going on, do you?_" Those eyes looking at him seemed pitying."_Don't worry, it'll all become very clear soon enough._" All of a sudden the man's eyes became colder than ice. The whole expression radiated threat. "_As I said, this one was a warning. The next time you interfere it won't be. Stay out of my way… or your hearts _will_ burn._" With those ominous words the face disappeared. All they had was the timer, still counting downwards inevitably.

While everyone else stared at the screen – shocked, disappointed, outraged and confused – Mycroft began to leave the room. "There's a phone call I must make." No one commented in any way.

John managed to keep himself in control for a respectable amount of time. Then, with such speed that probably startled the others, he finally gave in to the urges of his body. He dashed into the bathroom and threw up.

* * *

Spencer began to wake up to a massive headache and general ache that seemed to have taken over all of his body. He groaned, not quite daring to open his eyes. He tried to move his hand but didn't quite get the limb to co-operate.

What… happened? Why did he feel like he'd been driven over by a truck? What was going on?

Hold on…

He was on his way somewhere, wasn't he? Yes. And he wasn't alone. Emily…

_That_ snapped Spencer right back into focus. His eye flew open to discover a darkening sky above him. "… 'tiss?" He could barely hear his own voice. He struggled to get up. "Emily?"

A large, firm hand appeared to stop his movements. "Stay very still until you're coherent enough to be able to tell if it's really safe to move", a quiet yet steel hard voice told him. "Can you do that for me?"

Spencer blinked twice, feeling dizzy and out of breath. Gradually everything began to slip into place. He turned his head, just enough to find the one and only Sherlock Holmes kneeling beside him. The man was wearing a hood to hide his face from anyone who might've been observing. He frowned. "What…?"

"This isn't the time for questions", Sherlock snapped, the British genius' patience clearly wearing thin. The man's sharp eyes scanned the environment. It was around then Spencer's ears had recovered enough to catch the sounds of approaching sirens. Well, even with the remote location someone must've caught the flames, not to even mention the explosion, and alerted emergency services. "Do you think you can manage walking?"

Spencer nodded carefully, lifting himself to a sitting position slowly although he would've wanted to just jump up and run. "Where's Emily? Is she alright?"

"She's relatively fine, all things considered. She's safe." The sirens were already quite close. Sherlock's posture stiffened slightly. "Now let's go."

Spencer hauled himself up, wincing slightly when his body protested loudly against the motions. He was mildly touched by the hand that appeared to help him but knew better than to comment. In silence the two of them disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind the ruins of a exploded house and a wrecked car.

Leaving behind one disaster to prepare for another.

* * *

Aaron knew that it was only a matter of time before he'd be connected to the explosion outside the factory looking area. Something like that was bound to catch attention. That's why he found it safest to play low while trying to come up with his next move.

He had no idea how long he'd been walking aimlessly until a rather expensive looking red car pulled to a stop right next to him. He froze, a part of him knowing who it was instantly. All of him turned cold when the darkened window rolled open and he met a face that only now seemed familiar although David Rossi had shown him pictures. "You look so very lost, Aaron", Queen told him. "Why don't you let me give you a ride?"

Aaron scoffed. He took a look around to notice no one before taking a step forward, then another. "Do I have a choice?"

The woman shrugged while he sat into the vehicle. "No. Not really." It wasn't a surprise that she didn't wait for him to fasten his seatbelt before beginning to speed away.

They'd been driving for about three minutes until she gave him a blindfold. "Put that on or you can be sure that you'll never see your child again."

Cautious fool's hope rising inside Aaron obeyed. Obeyed although all of his reason screamed against it. "Is Jack okay?" he asked as soon as the fabric was firmly in place.

"He is. For now." He felt her eyes on him before she went on. "So… Have you figured out who I am, now?"

Aaron gulped laboriously. He didn't like the way his heart was jumping. "Yes", he admitted.

"You called me your sister. Remember?" Her voice carried a clearly traceable edge of bitterness. "I was your sister, no matter how briefly. Still you let that asshole father of yours beat me up and worse. Every… fucking… day. And… And when I finally got away… I never heard from you again. I was your sister and you didn't try to contact me even once."

Aaron shivered. He wasn't sure if the thundering of his heart or their current speed was more dangerous. "I was a child", he attempted to reason, with which one of them was unclear.

"SO WAS I!" For a few moments all of the woman's astonishing control was lost. And then, just as quickly, it was back. "But no matter. We're both adults, now. That's all in the past. Right now I have something very special planned out for you."

Aaron barely heard. His thoughts were buzzing hard, his head trying desperately to bring any sense at all into this. He failed.

He asked his father about his adopted sister of less than two years, once. He could still recall quite vividly the look in the man's eyes. '_Your sister is dead._' From the beating that followed Aaron knew better than to ask ever again.

To him the woman sitting beside him wasn't Queen. Not even Eveleen Moriarty for he didn't know that name. She was Erica Hotchner, as his father and mother introduced the scared little girl they brought home one stormy evening.

* * *

Sherlock led Spencer to a field nearby the explosion site. Spencer blinked with confusion when the detective stopped in front of what seemed to be nothing. "Why…?" He was interrupted when the British genius grabbed a handle that seemed to have come out of nowhere and pulled open a lid. Revealed stairs that led into darkness.

A pair of sharp, demanding eyes met him. "Go in. Quickly."

Spencer obeyed although a tiny part of his brain attempted to message that something was horribly wrong. He slipped into the dark, all too familiar with the feel of his gun against his thigh. Would he know who he needed to use it on anymore?

As soon as they made it down Sherlock offered him something. A flashlight. "Use that. We won't get anywhere if you break your leg at this point."

A cautious smile tucked the corner of Spencer's lips. Now this was beginning to feel familiar. "Thank you."

"Hmph."

They went on about thirty steps until he saw a door. At Sherlock's nod he pulled it open. For a moment the light inside caused him to shield his eyes until the blurry figures began to clear out. He saw Emily, who appeared bruised and shaken but largely unharmed. She'd pressed a hand to her stomach, as though attempting to feel the baby. Beside her sat Jason Gideon, who had a grim look on his pale face.

Spencer staggered back a step with shock and overwhelming relief. "You… I thought…"

"I was able to leave the house before the explosion", Jason explained. The man, however, appeared suspiciously tense for someone who just cheated death. "Someone tipped me off."

Spencer frowned. At that point his hand was sneaking closer and closer to his gun. "Who?"

"I did, love." Irene Adler stepped out of the shadows as gracefully as a hunting tiger. Her eyes focused on Sherlock although she was talking to him. "Someone asked me to look after the family of his… friend. I failed once. I won't do it a second."

Spencer frowned, a hundred questions burning on his tongue. He never had the time for any of them. Because completely without a warning Sherlock pulled out a gun and pointed it at them. "I have no idea of who any of you are." He glanced towards Irene. "But somehow you managed to lure me here and you all seem to know me. I need to know why. So start explaining. _Now_."

* * *

During the five minutes and twenty-eight seconds John spent in the bathroom he managed to compose himself. Was able to chase the picture of… _this _Sherlock's devilish eyes into such a distant corner of his mind where it was bearable. He rinsed his mouth and face, took several deep breaths his therapist would've been proud of and walked back to the others.

Looking at him Penelope frowned with worry, her caring instincts taking over. "Hey. How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." It was a flatout lie but as it was John didn't manage to care. "And right now… Right now we have bigger problems. James Moriarty is still alive."

That certainly started out a havoc. John was forced to answer about a hundred questions. Derek was the one to make the dreaded one. "Is it possible that he's managed to talk Sherlock into working for him? I mean… Now that Sherlock has no memories."

John didn't have to focus too hard to be able to summon the memories.

Sherlock asking if he was alright at the pool, focusing on him instead of rushing after Moriarty.

Sherlock playing the violin.

Sherlock's smile, the true and honest one. Because John knew the difference.

And finally, Sherlock's genuine tears right before the fall that made his world crash and burn. '_Goodbye, John._'

Sherlock himself told John, once upon a time, that he was a fake. A lot of people told him so. But John refused to believe them. Even now. Because he just couldn't bring himself to believe that the heart he'd seen come to life was nothing but a hoax.

"No", he murmured, already pushing himself up. He wondered how many steps he'd be able to take. "I'm sorry, but…" He needed space. Some time alone. Room to breathe.

Penelope nodded, seeming understanding. "Feel free to use the bedroom. Just… Just stay away from the windows."

John nodded although he processed the request only partially. He didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know that there were eyes watching him. He hated it. People looked at him the same way after Sherlock's…

John must've been sitting right beside the bed for at least three minutes until he remembered the tape recorder in his coat's pocket. It was old fashioned and barely functioning but perhaps it'd work. Because there was something that he needed to say, just in case…

He wondered if Mycroft had been listening. Because mere seconds after he was finished and the recorder was safely hidden the British government entered, a solemn look on his face. "I was wondering if this is a good time for a talk."

John scoffed, wiping his eyes as subtly as possible. He could tell that the man noticed the gesture, though. "There's never going to be a better time." He took a deep breath, trying to deduce what was coming and how he should brace himself for it. "So… What is it?"

Mycroft's eyes were truly sad. The emotion was stunningly raw and vivid. "I told you that soon enough you may have to reconsider you beliefs and loyalties."

John shook his head. And despite everything there was no hesitation behind the gesture. "No, I don't." He was surprised by the thin and tiny gloomy smile that came to his face. "I become very loyal very quickly. Isn't that what you said?"

Mycroft's expression was unreadable but softer than anything John had been expecting. As was the tone of voice. "Well. Sherlock rarely makes mistakes."

John didn't ask for a clarification, mostly because it would've done his splitting headache no favors. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose roughly. "So… What's our next move?"

"We leave." Mycroft's eyes were steel. This part, handling a crisis, the man was good at. "Obviously this place isn't safe anymore."

John frowned. "What about Spencer, Emily and Aaron? And what about Sherlock? They're still out there."

"There's something massive coming. I'm sure that you've figured out as much." Mycroft's jaw tightened to a extend that should've been impossible. "We need to prepare ourselves or we won't be much help to any of them. And we'll find them."

John scoffed, running a hand through his hair. The limb wasn't shaking. "Sounds like a rubbish plan."

Mycroft seemed almost amused. "Do you have anything better in mind?"

John offered no response. Instead he frowned, like a bloodhound that just caught a scent. "That's not the only reason why you came to me alone." He glanced towards the clock. "It's been half an hour. What else did you talk about after I left?"

Mycroft took a deep breath. Was that… fear on the British government's face? "There's something you need to know about Sherlock. He was insistent on never letting anyone know but I believe that this calls for an exception."

* * *

An hour later James Moriarty, although he would've never admitted it out loud, shivered when he entered a small room and flicked on the lights to discover that he wasn't alone. There on a worn chair sat a monster wearing Sherlock Holmes' face. The eyes looking sharply at him didn't appear pleased. "We had an agreement. Remember?" It was smooth yet only a fool would've missed the threat. "John was _not_ supposed to see you yet."

Moriarty shrugged, trying to keep his expression light although he could feel tension in his muscles. His fingers reached subtly towards his gun. "You know that I don't play in the shadows well. I adore the attention too much."

There wasn't even a word of warning until the other man was up and had grabbed James' throat. The taller man threw him right at a wall with a force no living human being should've been able to possess. The eyes boring into the criminal's were definitely those of a demon. "You know the things I've ordered you to do for over a decade", the man hissed in a voice that would've brought anyone chills. "So tell me, _Richard_… Do you honestly think that it's wise to defy me?"

Moriarty struggled, his body reacting violently to the fact that he couldn't breathe. Was that… panic coursing through him? Could it possibly be?

The other must've seen something in his eyes that pleased the man for the hold slackened without any warning, sending James sliding to the floor gasping for breath. "Well, now that the dull part is behind us and we've reached an understanding… We have a lot of things to do, in case you've forgotten." The other man was almost out of the room while speaking. "Hearts to burn. A world to set on fire."

Moriarty smirked, a hand still on his sore throat.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh dear… Sooo, it looks like we're fast approaching the peak of the story. But biggest question goes: Do we have two Sherlocks or just one that's gone badly astray? And what, exactly, is Mycroft about to tell John?

PLEASE, do leave a note to let me know your thoughts! It's always good to hear from you.

Until next time, folks! I truly hope that you'll join in for it.

Take care!


	8. The Limits of Trust

A/N: It's Thursday, you guys, which means that it's time for another update. (smirks) It's a small miracle that I managed to get this one all done and polished in time. (gawks)

THANK YOU, so very much, for all your reviews and affection! It totally warms my heart that you're out there following this story. (HUGS)

Awkay, it's shoooow time! I really hope that this turned out okay. (gulps)

* * *

The Limits of Trust

* * *

Erin Strauss most certainly wasn't amused when a rather lovely dinner was interrupted by a frantic phone call. The entire bureau's computers had gone down due to a massive attack someone had planted into the system. Apparently that wasn't even the worst bit.

It was only due to the sheer state of chaos and shock no one paid attention to her atypically fancy attire when she marched in. With a frown on her face and a sharp, stone hard look in her eyes she tried to find someone who could give her answers.

In the end she found Kevin Lynch who was working furiously on a computer. Beside him, with a expression of sheer concentration, stood Ashley Seaver, who seemed to have matured a great deal since she last saw her. It wasn't necessarily only a good thing. Erin greeted them both with a nod, focusing on the younger woman who'd dyed her hair dark brown. "Thank you for coming this quickly."

Ashley nodded, a very serious look in her eyes. "Of course. This… could tear down the entire bureau."

As though Erin hadn't known that. This wasn't just some UnSub they were chasing. This time it was one of their own who launched the attack. Kevin's investigations were solid. The assault definitely left from Aaron's computer and security cameras were able to confirm that the man stopped by at the time. To make matters worse the local police contacted Erin while she was on her way to the bureau. Apparently Aaron was also linked to a explosion. There were no casualties or injuries but the car that exploded belonged to 'someone of great importance'. The unit chief was officially a wanted man. A lot of suspicion lay on his MIA team as well. This was bound to damage the bureau's reputation and just as doomed to become public, soon.

Kevin's breathy voice pulled her out of a gloomy trail of thought. "What…? I… I didn't do anything, I swear!"

The women peered towards the screen and a chill went down Erin's spine. Right before her eyes numbers were counting down. '_THE END_' stood below the numbers in blood red.

For a few moments it was incredibly quiet. "What are we going to do about this?" Ashley half whispered. The terror and disbelief in her eyes were clearly visible.

Erin swallowed loudly, staring at the screen with wide, stunned eyes. Attempting to find reason. She couldn't. And so she did the only thing she could. "Lynch, solve… this." She gritted her teeth. "As of this moment Aaron Hotchner is no longer a federal agent. We'll find him. And when we do he'll be treated as a potential hostile subject."

Ashley nodded slowly. She could see reluctance and sadness in the younger woman's eyes. This wasn't going to be easy. "What about the rest of the team?"

Kevin stiffened. Erin pretended that she didn't notice. "They'll have to be questioned as well." She sighed, feeling a massive headache rolling in. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I need to try to figure out how to explain this mess to the press."

* * *

Irene Adler had always been good at making deductions. It came naturally in her line of job, really, especially with her one time… side business with Moriarty. Which was a unfortunate miss-step from her part. So, when she looked at Sherlock who was pointing a gun at her and the two other men in the room, she found it easy to tear her attention from the piece of metal. What she focused on were the detective's eyes.

Sherlock… was scared. Terrified, even. And reacted in the way any wild animal would upon facing a threat. Attack had always been Sherlock's strongest line of defence.

Taking a calculated risk Irene stepped forward, careful not to crowd Sherlock's personal space. The way her heart thumped madly was marvelous. "We're friends, Sherlock. All of us." _Well, close enough…_ "So calm down. Put the gun away and let us explain."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. She could almost feel how he studied her, read her. "And John?"

"We'll take you to him, I promise." There wasn't a trace of lie on Spencer's face. Those eyes were far calmer than Sherlock's. How many times had the agent been held at a gunpoint? "But first you need to hear me out. Can you do that for me?"

Those words seemed to trigger something in Sherlock. The Brit's eyes flashed and the hands holding the gun shuddered. And the decision was made.

* * *

Penelope barely had the time to pack up her laptop before Mycroft was already urging them to a large van that came out of nowhere, it seemed. None of them had the slightest clue of where they'd be taken, if they'd ever see the friends who were missing again. None of them managed to wake up from the nightmare. In the end they found themselves from a small, surprisingly homely cabin just outside the city area. While the others continued to investigate JJ announced that she needed some air. This was all getting a bit much.

As soon as she was outside she inhaled her lungs full of blessedly fresh air. A few moments later she was composed enough to grab her cell phone and dial numbers. Her children turning out to be the first thing on her mind she tried to call their sitter but received no reply. A frown of worry and dread appearing she attempted to reach Will, only to remember that he was working and wouldn't be able to pick up. JJ blinked with a immense amount of surprise when she saw the next name she was about to call.

'_Spence_'

She never deleted his number after his supposed death. Didn't even consider doing so. Now, no matter how outraged she still was, her finger fidgeted with the desire to…

It wasn't until there was a cough she realized that she wasn't alone. She looked to side with startle, almost reaching out for a gun, until she recognized the familiar figure. She blinked twice. "John?" She wasn't the only one who needed a breather. No wonder after Mycroft's news. Or was this something else? "What are you doing out here?"

John appeared embarrassed for a while. He wouldn't meet her gaze while his eyes darted around, searching. "Waiting." She expected a clarification but none came. Still she had a feeling that she understood. The doctor finally looked at her and frowned. "Are you alright?"

JJ sighed. Inhaled, exhaled. "No." She was done lying, to herself and others.

A silent understanding lingered between them. It would've been fascinating to see where the conversation would've been headed if John wouldn't have picked himself up from the visibly uncomfortable chair and began to make his way inside. Just before walking through the door he paused, clearly trapped in a thought. "I can't promise you that you'll forgive him. But you'll understand. He understands, too."

Left alone JJ found her thoughts wandering in wild patterns. They'd been forced to make impossible decisions, both of them. They never really talked about Emily. Spencer never got the chance to explain his choice. JJ found herself wishing with all she had that they would get the chance eventually.

JJ shuddered when her cell phone bleeped all of a sudden and hoped that it was Will or the babysitter calling back. It wasn't. There was a text message from Aaron, with a picture attached to it. JJ's whole world began to spin as she gave them a look.

The picture was of Henry, who was crying with a cut on his cheek, holding his baby sister Sandra as tightly as he possibly could. She couldn't see her little girl's face. Couldn't tell if…

'_I'm proposing a deal for you. One that you might find acceptable. Allow the bomb to go off and you may see your children alive again. Tell anyone about this and the next time you see them will be at a morgue._'

* * *

Aaron had a blindfold covering his eyes so he could only rely on his remaining senses. They switched cars at some point. It didn't surprise him. Whoever Queen – or Eveleen Moriarty, as he was struggling to learn to call her – worked for had taken a great deal of precautions. The scent of the woman's shampoo invaded his space when she leaned closer for reasons he preferred not even trying to quess. He found himself fighting the urge to feel sick.

It was the same brand Haley used and he had a inkling feeling that Eveleen knew.

"I know that you heard what your father did to me." Her voice was colder than ice, devoid of all emotion. "I was only a room away and the walls were thin. I tried to call out to you, sometimes. But you never came. You even lied to the social workers." They took a sharp turn. "You can't even imagine how badly I wanted to kill you. For years to come. But something kept telling me that you still had a purpose."

Aaron opened his mouth but in the end stopped himself. He lost track of time at some point, perhaps even consciousness. Enough so to be startled when the vehicle stopped abruptly.

"Today, brother dear, you're going to prove to me that I didn't make a mistake. That you're worthy of the pathetic life that I allowed you to keep. And you're going to show me just how much you're willing to do for another."

The blindfold was removed without a warning and Aaron groaned, squinting for a moment before the things before him made sense. In an instant he regretted ever trying to find out.

They were in a distant part of the city where he couldn't remember ever being, outside a rather old block of flats. He couldn't see anything remarkable. Anything that would've given him even a single answer. It was unnerving, to just sit there waiting in silence beside her. Especially when he didn't have the slightest clue of what to expect.

In the end he spoke. "So Moriarty… He's alive. His web is still active."

Eveleen stared at him incredulously for a second. "_Jim's_ web?" She laughed, as though he'd just told the best joke she'd ever heard. "So you really haven't figured out anything yet." She drifted in her thoughts before continuing. "Jim is nothing but the face and voice of the real person in charge. His supposed death, Sherlock's jump, Moran's appearance… They were all nothing but parts, shreds, of the true plan."

Aaron frowned. Cold was creeping through him. "What do you mean?"

"The Web, as you like to call it, has been growing exponentially this entire time. Through all these years. No matter how hard Sherlock, Spencer and all those organizations have worked to wipe us out like a disease we've been faster. We've lived and prospered. Right there underneath your noses and all over the world. Those brave soldiers we've lost are greatly missed but their sacrifices haven't been in vain." She smiled, the flame of a true believer in her eyes. He'd seen that same expression worn by a lot of terrorists. "Now… Now we're finally ready to step out. To set this pitiable world on fire." She looked at him and he honestly didn't have any clue what was going through her mind. "It's time for you to choose, Aaron."

Aaron swallowed loudly, unable to utter a sound. For once in his life absolutely all words had been smacked out of him. Shock numbed him. This was worse than anything they'd ever imagined.

When a woman of Eveleen's age with long, neatly dyed reddish blond hair and brown eyes walked out he paid barely any attention to her. Eveleen did. "Right now you have a great deal of power in your hands. You can give a life, and end a life." She handed a gun towards him. It was his own, Aaron noticed with a great deal of disgust. "Use that on me and you can be sure that it's the end of poor little Jack. The same result follows using it on yourself. Use it on her…" She nodded towards the stranger. "… and I'll give you the chance to save two children instead of one. I'd also give you something else that you might find interesting."  
Aaron's eyebrow bounced up while he began to feel sick. He really didn't have a choice, did he? "What would that be?"

Eveleen smirked, clearly knowing that she'd won. "The location of a bomb. And a way to stop it."

* * *

Aaron couldn't possibly know that his answer was witnessed.

"You guys!" Penelope exclaimed an hour and thirty-six minutes later. "The laptop… Something's happening."

In an instant the whole group had gathered around her, eyes glued to the screen. What they saw pulled out a series of stunned gasps. "What the…?!"

They were all relieved to discover that their boss was alright. The feeling lasted until they saw what he was doing. There was a gun in his hands when he approached a seemingly unarmed woman who clearly had no idea of his presence. He stopped about five steps away, watched for a moment while she rummaged through her purse. There was a expression on his strained face none of them was able to read.

And he pulled the trigger.

Penelope cried out and the rest of them gasped in shock when the single shot to the back of her head sent the woman down, most certainly dead. And there, right before their very eyes, Aaron holstered the gun, turned around and walked away wift swift, determined steps.

Like a soldier leaving a battle field, John found himself musing.

And as though the video itself wasn't bad enough there was more. A text. Taunting words that scrolled to the screen slowly.

'_A FEDERAL AGENT MURDERS A INNOCENT. This is what a man who has sworn to serve and protect does to a civilian. There is no one protecting you. Reconsider your loyalties._'

"What…", Peneloped choked out. No words would've been enough to describe the shock in her eyes. "What… was _that_? What did he…?"

Penelope gulped thickly, folding her arms. Still they all saw that she was trembling. "There's… Well, he's gotta have a good reason. Right?"

David stared at the screen with stunned, half glazed over eyes. Opened his mouth once, twice. "I… don't know."

Mycroft seemed to be the only one of them able to function. The man was already pulling out his cell phone. "I'll have my people try to find out who that woman was." He cast a sharp look towards Penelope. "That video's on YouTube and so far it has twelve hundred thousand hits. Try to have it deleted before it inflicts any more damage."

Penelope nodded dazedly, something that looked dangerously lot like tears shining in her eyes.

"C'mon, guys." Derek's voice shook a little. There was more than a touch of uncertainty in his eyes. "This… This is Hotch we're talking about. We know him. He'd never do anything like this. We know him."

"Do we, really?" They'd never seen JJ's eyes look quite like that before. So cold, so distant. Her arms were folded even more tightly. "There's too much going on. How are we supposed to trust anyone?"

Derek's eyes flashed dangerously and for a moment the rest of them truly worried that he'd attack her. He emitted an actual growl. "How the hell can you say that after everything we've been through together? We're a family, Jennifer!"

She lifted her chin defiantly. Clearly this was something that'd been building up for a long time. "No, we're not. Not when people are coming back from the dead and keeping secrets. Right now I don't trust any of you."

While the others seemed occupied by the new revelation and the argument that followed John, whose own heart was hammering madly with repressed memories and feelings, heard his cell phone ring. He frowned at the unfamiliar number. "Hello?"

"_It's me._" Sherlock's voice was so familiar that he felt cold shivers go all the way through him.

John swallowed loudly, his eyes widening. He didn't dare to go on until he was sure that the others weren't listening in on him. "What the bloody hell is going on? You just…"

"_I'll explain everything. I promise._" There was a loud sound John couldn't recognize before the British genius went on. "_But only to you. I'll send you an address. Come there alone as fast as you can._"

A massive part of John was screaming at him that he shouldn't trust, that it was insane to take a risk like this. He chose to ignore it. "Alright." He took a deep breath. "Sherlock…"

He never got the chance to finish until the phone call was over. He groaned, squeezing the item like it was the soul reason to all of his troubles. _Typical…_

Sherlock sent the text immediately. John was careful to make sure that no one, including Mycroft who'd been eyeing him suspiciously since their little talk, was looking before he took his retreat. He left the house without much of a sound. Hoping that he wasn't making a huge mistake when listening to his heart.

* * *

Spencer knew Sherlock well enough to realize that even without barely any memories the man was a force of nature. If he wanted to do something there was no holding him back. As soon as the detective heard everything they could possibly tell him about John the Brit was taking his leave. Despite a frown of disapproval from Emily Spencer shook his head. Their paths would cross later. Right now there were other things they needed to pay attention to.

Irene had disappeared a long while earlier, who knows where, and the two of them were about to follow. That was until something in the dust snatched all of Spencer's attention. A flashlight was just enough to show a trail of tiny footprints.

_Oh…!_

Emily took a step closer. He tried to draw comfort from the feel of her hand on his shoulder. "Reid?"

Spencer felt like he was choking. His eyes stung hellishly but at the moment he was far too stunned to shed tears. "My son… I think he was here. And he…" He gulped. It did nothing to improve the taste in his mouth. The sound he emitted was that of a drowning man. "He's taken his first steps. And I wasn't even there to…"  
Spencer had no idea of what happened. But all of a sudden Emily's arms were wrapped around him and she'd sealed him into a tender embrace. Very slowly he found himself melting into her touch. It became easier to breathe.

In the middle of all the chaos, pain and terror that stolen moment offered Spencer a faint shimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, not all was lost.

* * *

The cab drive to Sherlock's address took torturously long although it couldn't be more than seven minutes and John barely managed a polite nod before he'd already dashed out of the vehicle. He blinked twice at the large house that'd most likely been abandoned for a good while. It could've used some love. And paint.

John steeled himself, then began to march on like a true soldier. Questioning his sanity with each step he took. When he made it inside all he heard was silence. He had to cough a little against the dust that seemed to fill his lungs.

"Sherlock?"

He didn't hear any steps before the voice spoke. It didn't surprise him. "I'm here."

John spun around so quickly that he quite nearly lost his balance. He was just in time to spot a very familiar looking man emerging from the shadows. The familiarity made his heart skip a couple of valuable beats.

Sherlock appeared dangerously pale. The man was wearing dark clothes that made him blend into the shadows almost perfectly and there was a hood pulled over his head. The detective's expression was such that instantly struck John as familiar. Stone hard, unreadable.

John tried to speak although he could barely breathe. "Are you…" He cleared his throat. "Are you alright?"

Sherlock's response was instant. "No. But I was hoping that you could help me with that."

John's whirring head barely managed to register the sound of a arrived text message. Not quite daring to tear his eyes from his friend in fear that the other man might disappear he took his cell phone. Just one look at the new message turned absolutely all of him ice cold. It was a different address, followed by eerily familiar words.

'_Come at once if convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway._'

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Uh oh… Now this does seem like a bit of not good. How in the world is this going to come down? Will everyone come out alive in the end?

PLEASE, do let me know your thoughts! It'd be super cool to hear from you. (gives one's best puppy dog impression)

My hectic schedule is about to swallow me up so I've gotta go. (groans) I truly hope that you'll all join in for the next one!

Take care!


	9. Family Ties

A/N: I've had INSANELY busy times lately. I've moved, managed to get myself a flue and before all that my work schedule was rather mad. (winces) BUT, in the end I DID manage a Thursday update. We'll see how this one turned out…

First, though! Thank you so much for your reviews, love and support! (BEAMS, and hugs) It means so, so much to have you supporting this story. So thank you!

Now, before I get any more doubts than I already have… Let's rock! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Family Ties

* * *

/ _The sharp claps of high heels didn't belong to the long, dusty and miserably dark hallway while three people made their way towards a door that may have been white once upon a time. There was a pleasant, more than a little forced smile on the face of Angela Raymar while she turned to look at the couple walking right beside her. "So… I understood that you already have a son."_

_The woman's sky blue eyes, which were all too clearly asking for a permission, swept towards the man who nodded sharply. Not bothering to spare Angela even a glance. "We do." Which seemed to be about all he was willing to share of the matter._

_Angela found it increasingly hard to keep her smile in place. "That's nice. I'm sure that he's excited to become a brother."_

_At this the woman's eyes finally lit up. She became alive, like a switch had been flicked. "He is. We've been trying to…" A sharp glare from her husband shut the woman up immediately. Her expression closed up, the spark disappeared._

_Feeling a shiver Angela took a deep breath. Surely these two were a better option than this place… "Ivan's been waiting for parents for a really long time, too. He's just as excited."_

_The woman trembled, her eyes widening. The man frowned. "There must've been a mistake. We were under the assumption that there's be a baby waiting for us."_

_Angela felt her heart skip a beat. She gulped loudly. "I'm… I thought…"_

_To her stun the wife actually glared at the man, even lifted her chin a little bit. Like all of a sudden she'd known something the two of them didn't. "Show us the boy."_

_By then they'd reached the door. Unsure if she was doing the right thing or making a huge mistake Angela sent out a little prayer, then opened it. To find two five-year-olds instead of one._

_The woman gasped, seeming astonished. "Are they… Are they twins?"_

_The boys could've been, although one was neatly polished and the other looked like he'd spent his brief life with the wolves. They had wild black hair and even more fierce, piercing eyes. Even their size and body shapes were identical. They'd been sent to her from a psychiatric ward with notes that they'd both grown in less than ideal circumstances and had developed a exceptionally strong bond. Even their very own language._

_Angela cursed herself mentally. These boys had been under her care for the past year and so far the longest she'd managed to keep them away from each other was eight minutes. What in the world made her think that she'd be able to trick the other into staying away now? A violent stab of pain crossed her. It was horrible to tear them apart this way but if one of them would finally get a proper home…_

_"No, they're not even related." Still Angela tried to smile at the more neatly dressed child, forcing herself not to glance towards the unkept looking one hiding in a corner. "Ivan, why don't you come and say hello to this lovely couple?"_

_The wife, however, didn't seem to even notice the cautiously smiling little boy. All she had eyes for was the small, hunched creature who was looking at her with wild eyes that pleaded her to leave him alone. Still she began to approach, like a moth drawn to a flame._

_Angela fidgeted. "I… __I'm not sure if that's a good idea. He doesn't like strangers."_

_The woman didn't seem to even hear. There was a absolutely astonishing smile on her face while she kneeled closer to the filthy child, almost reached out a hand before thinking better of it. "He's the one, Andrew. Our son." Her voice was incredibly soft. Her eyes were completely blind to the pain filling Ian's. All that existed to her was the clearly terrified little boy. "This is our son." Forgetting caution right there she brushed the child's wild locks. The boy shivered and revealed a row of threatening teeth but didn't lash out. "What's your name?"_ /

* * *

John's heart began to thump a great deal faster than it should've while the whole situation at hand began to sink in.

So basically he had two options. Either he was with Sherlock or with the monster Mycroft told him dark tales about. The problem was… How to find out the truth without letting the genius catch on? Because if this man wasn't his best friend…

The taller Brit's eyebrow arched. Those all too familiar eyes swept towards his cell phone. "Who was the text from?"

John shrugged. "I'd tell you if I knew." There was no way he'd be able to lie convincingly enough. It was for the best to stick to truth, then. He searched the other's eyes, trying to see. "Do you… remember?"

He was almost sure that he spotted a microsecond of confusion. Furrowing eyebrows. A flash. "Do you know who I am?" It was definitely a challenge. A test.

John nodded, taking his military posture. Preparing himself. His hand reached out towards his gun although he had a feeling that he'd never get to use it. "Yes." He looked directly into those eyes, took in the dark flames. "I know everything about you."

One eyebrow rose at him. "Do you, now? Good, good. In that case we can get directly to the actual business." That look was definitely something he'd never, ever faced before. "I sent a message to Sherlock, years ago. I'm sure that you remember. You were there, after all – and you weren't the only one who had a ear piece." A ice cold smirk appeared. "I was right there, Johnny boy. Feeding little Jim all the words while he played along happily. I was up there in the shadows, pointing a gun. Pointing that red dot directly at you. It would've been so easy, so very tempting, to just pull the trigger. But I had to make Sherlock suffer first. I had a lot of unfinished business, back then. My web wasn't complete. Now… Now I'm ready. We're all ready." Faster than John could see anything coming a bite of sharp pain hit him. Those eyes became darker than a stormy sky. "I promised to burn the heart right out of him. And I'm one who makes good on his promises."

* * *

The blindfold was on again so Aaron had absolutely no idea of where he was as Eveleen Moriarty drove them around. In the end the car pulled to a stop and the fabric was ripped off harshly. He cast a demanding, fierce look at her as soon as he was able to see something.

Eveleen's eyes were unreadable, as was her smile. "You've been a really good boy, Aaron. For that you've earned a little reward. Perhaps it'll also remind you of why, exactly, you're doing all of this."

He frowned. Knowing far better than to trust her kindness. "What are you planning?"

He expected just about anything but the cell phone handed his way. She gave him a devilish grin while placing the item to his ear. It was ringing. "You'll find out soon enough", she promised.

Aaron was almost sure that his heart nearly burst when he heard the voice. It was small and tentative but also very familiar. "_Daddy?_"

Without being called tears filled Aaron's eyes. It was a miracle that none of them spilled. "Hey, buddy. Are you…" He cleared his throat. It did nothing to ease the lump sitting in his throat. "Are you okay?"

"_Yeah._" There was a moment's pause before Jack went on. "_Daddy… I don't like these people. When are you coming to take me home?_"

A tear, just one, rolled down Aaron's cheek. As soon as he'd get the chance to he swore he'd…! "Jack, buddy… I need you to listen to me carefully now, okay?" He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Soon… Soon you'll hear things about me. And… I need you to know that I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. And I love you, more than anything in this world. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Alright?"

"_Okay._"

Eveleen cast a rather annoyed look towards him. She tapped on her wrist watch. "Time's up", she announced, just quietly enough for Jack not to hear her.

Fighting back the overwhelming urge to strangle her right there Aaron forced himself to focus on his son once more. Just in case… "I love you", he repeated, his voice breaking far more than he would've liked. Another tear escaped. "You'll be okay, Jack. No matter what happens. I promise you."

"_I love you too, daddy._"

With that their time together was up. Aaron emitted a cry he was far from proud of when the cell phone was ripped from his hold. He'd felt the kind of rage he did when facing Eveleen's eyes only once in his life. "What the hell do you want me to do?" Because he was willing to do anything, _anything_, if…

Eveleen smirked in a way that chilled him. Clearly knowing that he was firmly in her hold. She started the car and began to speed away. "Now… We're going to your son. But before you can see him you have a bomb to stop, remember?"

* * *

Penelope had always hated arguments. When Derek and JJ began a loud quarrel that was dangerously close to becoming personal she attempted to lose herself into the world of her finally functioning laptop and a search for answers. By the time JJ stormed out, slamming the door as she went, all Penelope could see was the countdown. She couldn't stop herself from wondering just how much would be lost by the time it hit zero.

How much of her family would still be left?

Her eyes shifted towards the shadow that appeared into the room. There was a tense, nearly lost look on Derek's face. Barely a glimpse was left of the confident, self assured man she'd grown used to seeing.

Penelope gulped. Even tried to smile but it just wouldn't come out. "It'll… be okay, in the end", she declared quietly, trying to convince them both. There was no reassurance in his eyes and a great deal of her became cold. "Right?"

Derek looked at her. Sadness took over his face and even with the best of attempts he couldn't quite chase it away. "Yeah. Of course."

They both tensed up when there was knock of the safe house's door. Out of nowhere Mycroft appeared. Nothing could be read from the British government's face while he made sure who the arrival was, his hand never once straying from his gun, then opened the door. Behind it stood Spencer and Emily, bruised and clearly shaken but apparently largely unharmed. And right beside them, with a somewhat uncertain expression, was Jason Gideon.

This time the smile came to Penelope easily. "Oh, my gosh…!" Without hesitating for even a second she closed the three of them into a tight, tender embrace, struggling to reach her arms as far as possible. Her eyes stung from tears of movement and joy. "You… You have so much explaining to do, do you hear me? Especially you, boss man!"

"I know." Jason's voice was deeper than she'd remembered. "But not right now. We have far more urgent matters at hand."

By the time the door was closed by JJ, who'd entered as soundlessly as a ghost from who knows where, David had made his way to the main room as well. While Mycroft's eyes searched, clearly looking for a certain someone, David blinked a couple of times with surprise. It was easy to see the million questions swirling on the tip of the man's tongue. "Are you all… alright?" was all he voiced in the end.

None of the arrivals responded for the reply was rather obvious. With every single one of them on the edge they all fidgeted at the sound of a sharp, demanding knock. Instinctively David's eyes swept towards Mycroft for answers. "Are you expecting someone?"

The Brit nodded stiffly. "Actually, yes, I am." Without further explanations or negotiations he allowed the arrival in.

More than one of them was stunned to silence. Just as many reached out towards their weapons, uncertainty and doubt taking over. "You've gotta be kidding me…", Derek scoffed.

Sherlock Holmes was unhealthily pale and bruised as the tall man stood unhesitantly before them but still his whole aura oozed power and something that didn't even have a name. There was no apology or insecurity in his flaming eyes. Such would've looked horribly out of place on his face. "Mycroft told me all about the latest events", the younger Brit announced. "I'm aware of what you've seen. You don't trust me."

Derek scoffed. "Well. We _have_ been told that you're a genius."

Blatantly ignoring the sarcasm Sherlock went on. "If this was only about me I would've dealt with all of this on my own." Indeed, even Penelope could see just how little the man wanted to beg them for help. His words were tight and venomous, almost bitter. "But this… is about John. I'd gladly minimize the risks when it comes to him."

A wave of worry spread through the room. They weren't exactly friends but they all liked the warm hearted British doctor. "Where is he?" Emily demanded, her voice a touch sharper than usual. Penelope wondered if the woman noticed how one of her hands slipped to her stomach.

Sherlock's left eyebrow twitched. "I wouldn't be here if I knew, now would I? Do try to keep up." The detective gritted his teeth so hard that it must've hurt. "Once I remembered bits and pieces I… asked him to meet me, so I would've been able to explain. It seems that someone else found him first."

Spencer frowned. "Moriarty?" the agent offered.

Sherlock shook his head. "No." And judging by the tone of voice that was pretty much all they'd get.

Derek sighed. It was easy to tell that the man's patience was running thin rather fast. "Look… You asked us to help you. Remember? How are we supposed to do that if you keep leaving out important facts?"

At this point the older Brit seemed to feel the need to interfere. "I've told them a lot but not the full story. I, however, believe that you should tell them everything." Mycroft's eyes were hard and uncompromising. Like those of a parent trying to reason with a child that was having a temper tantrum. "For John's sake, Sherlock. I see in your eyes that this is something you remember."

Sherlock gritted his teeth in a manner that had to hurt, sending a filthy look at his brother. But in the end spoke. "The man we're looking for is Ivan Rimakov. Before I became Mycroft's brother I was… in a lot of ways his."

* * *

/ _Despite his young age Mycroft Holmes knew basically everything there was to know about difficulties with conceiving a child. Apparently he was the only miracle his parents would ever be granted. That became clear after hundrets and hundrets of hours full of the adults fighting, his mother crying, his father drinking and both of them doing their best to please him. Like they'd been terrified that he'd disappear if they wouldn't meet one of his requests._

_All that fuss, although in reality all Mycroft would've needed was five bloody minutes when they would've focused solely on him instead of themselves or a baby that'd never come._

_And then came the day when his little brother came home. For the rest of his life Mycroft remembered that it was storming on that evening while he sat in the biggest living room of the mansion with his babysitter and the family's housekeeper, waiting. He was shaking so badly that in any other situation he would've been embarrassed._

_What if the new baby wouldn't like him? What if this wouldn't fix matters between his parents, after all? What if…?_

_His ears were keen to detect the sound of a door opening and it took all he had not the dash there. Painfully long sixty-eight seconds later his parents walked in. His father looked anything but pleased. His mother, however, was smiling radiantly. "We found your brother, Mycroft", she announced in a voice he couldn't remember hearing ever before._

_Mycroft frowned, confused. His eyes scanned through both of his parents. There wasn't a trace of the mentioned brother. "Where's the baby?"_

_His mother's smile faltered, just a little bit. "Well, that's… It would seem that we had… a bit of a surprise."_

_And right then a small, incredibly filthy and wild looking little boy peered into the room. Squinted at the bright light. Shuddered at the sight of three strangers. His sitter clasped a hand to her mouth, their housekeeper gasped. Mycroft… found himself staring into the bizarre child's indescribable eyes. And he smiled, seeing exactly the same thing his mother did. _Their_ mother._

_"Mycroft, this is your brother Sherlock."_ /

* * *

In the city centre several people who saw the event gasped when a man was pushed out from the back of a van before the vehicle sped away. The man swayed dangerously and it was easy to tell that it took him a lot not to fall down. He was bruised and there were wounds all over his body. He was trembling in a way that suggested that he might be feverish, in a shock or both.

In the end a young woman finally managed to recover enough to begin a dash towards the poor, unfortunate soul. "Hey! Are you okay? How badly are you hurt?"

Realizing that someone was coming closer the man shuddered like someone who'd been attacked. "NO! Don't! Just… Just stay where you are! Don't come any closer!"

Finally the man was able to lift his gaze. The crowd gasped again and recoiled at the sight. He was horribly pale, apart from the red circles rimming his eyes. For a moment they thought that he was crying. That was until they realized that the tears were blood red.

The man emitted a shuddering breath, seeming even closer to collapsing than before. He coughed and worked his hardest to cover his mouth. "I… I'm Dr. John Watson. And I… I need to be put into quarantine, as fast as possible."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Soooooo… It seems that the pieces are finally coming together. But that doesn't mean that things would look even the slightest bit more promising… (winces)

I have no idea how you're gonna take this, but… There's a couple of more chapters left of this. Then we move on to the final part of this trilogy. I know, I know, but this story would've felt awfully rushed if I'd closed it in just a few more chapters. And there's plenty that I still want to portray before REALLY closing this thing. Plus, if my plans fall into place like I'd want them to in two chapters is the best place to leave this. How do these plans sound to you?

PLEASE, do let me know! Because it'd really mean a lot to have one or two of you marching through the rest of this with me…

Until next time, folks! I truly hope that you'll all join in for that one.

Take care!


End file.
